


The War Back Home

by Casstler



Series: The War Back Home [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstler/pseuds/Casstler
Summary: This is an on-going story that I've been working on for quite some time, all the way back since 2015 actually. I'm now try'na upload it and see what people think of it just for some general feedback. The story itself isn't quite finished, but I've completed a few chapters which are available for upload.Now again, this has been in the works for a few years, so while I'd like to think my writing has improved, there's no doubt to be some cringy stuff in the earlier chapters, which I'm doing my best to iron out.So yea! Lemme know what you guys think!
Series: The War Back Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610959





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is an on-going story that I've been working on for quite some time, all the way back since 2015 actually. I'm now try'na upload it and see what people think of it just for some general feedback. The story itself isn't quite finished, but I've completed a few chapters which are available for upload.  
> Now again, this has been in the works for a few years, so while I'd like to think my writing has improved, there's no doubt to be some cringy stuff in the earlier chapters, which I'm doing my best to iron out.  
> So yea! Lemme know what you guys think!

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the children are playing and laughing in the shade of the numerous trees surrounding the park. It is a truly beautiful with scarcely a cloud in the sky and a gentle breeze prevents the onlookers from overheating. It was as if the outbreak had never happened. As if the invaders hadn’t invaded in the first place. But they have. You know they have. So instead of enjoying the sun after a hard days work as you should be doing, you find yourself in a small dark room. As you look through the desolate place, dread steals its way into your mind, creating countless un-answerable questions.  
‘Where are the others?’  
‘What are they going to do to us?’  
Deciding not to let these negative thoughts linger in your sub consciousness, you decide to inspect the room, not that there are many things to inspect. In front of you is rusty metal table, its dust-covered surface implies it has been here for some time, or simply, no one has bothered to clean it up. On the far end of the room you see a reflection of yourself; a one-way mirror, as is the norm for most interrogation rooms. Who knows what sick twisted person might be standing there watching. The room is deathly silent; the only sound penetrating the gloom is your breathing.  
You hear another noise from outside the room. It is very faint but it starts to get louder with each passing second. As if the sound is making its way towards the room. Your eyes fall upon the heavy metal door on the other end of the room. The sound grows louder still; footsteps making their way to the door. The footsteps abruptly stop upon reaching the door. Your muscles tense, bracing for whatever horrifying creature stands on the other side.  
The heavy door swings soundlessly open, flooding the room with artificial light for a few seconds, the lights so bright they sting your eyes. The door then closes and in place of the blinding light is a man, who judging by his suit and clean-shaven appearance, you guess to be an Inspector, or some other high form of authority. He sits on a chair opposite you on the table with so much force it causes the dust lift from the table and hover in the air between the two of you. The man then takes out a small devices you recognise to be a recorder and upon activating, places it on the table and begins to recite, ”November 25th 2020, agent Angler, interrogation room 1, suspect Sherman Mars” he then turns to you. “So Mr. Mars” He continues, “you were present during the events that took place here between October 1st and the present day. Correct?”  
“Yes, I was there” you reply, “Where are my friends?”  
“I’ll ask the questions for now” He says with a tone of slight annoyance. “As I was saying, you were here during that period of time, so you know exactly what has been going on.”  
“I Know most of the facts but I don’t know why it happened” Sherman was saying uneasily. “Wait, you said suspect, you don’t think we did this do you?”  
“I’m not saying that at all.” Replies the agent. “However, our report states that your group was the only one in the area during the time of the incident” the agent pulls out a yellow folder from an inside pocket of his suite and hands it to Sherman. Sherman reads the report, his eyes darting around the page in disbelief.  
“If this is what you think happened, then you need to get your story straight!” Shouts Sherman, his rage plainly visible on his pale face. “We didn’t attack the city, we saved it!”  
"Well it’s your word against ours.” The agent states calmly, almost threatening. “If you didn’t, then who do you suppose did?”  
“I’ll tell you who,” begins Sherman. “It was the Cursed Battalion” Sherman spits out the words as if they carry an unsavoury taste. The agent stares at Sherman with a mixed look of shock and disbelief, Sherman returns his stare with anger.  
“The what?” Asks the agent. “I’m not familiar with this unit.” He states unconvincingly.  
“Then you’d better brush up on your history” says Sherman. The agent sends him an angry look. “Maybe you’ve heard of the 501st Rangers Battalion?” the agent gives a slight nod. “Of course you have, everyone’s heard of the Legendary ‘Battalion of Heroes’ trained on Jupiter and won numerous conflicts in the name of the United States of America.”  
“Yes” the agent, agrees. “I’ve heard of the 501st, they were said to be the best of the best; the most efficient military group in American history.” He continues, with awe in his words.  
“Let’s fast forward to October 2018, the Battalion were on a mission which went horribly wrong, where they ended up killing thousands of civilians.” Begins Sherman hardly able to contain his disgust.  
“I heard about that.” Says the agent “The papers dubbed it the ‘The Fall’. But they also said that the Battalion had been told they were a militia group plotting their attack on the states.” Says the agent.  
“That’s just what they wanted you to think.” Says Sherman. “I bet the papers also mentioned nothing of the fate of the Battalion. Well I’ll tell you, they were all dishonourably discharged. Their commander refused to share his reasons for issuing the orders, so the whole Battalion paid the price.” Says Sherman looking straight at the agent, waiting for his response.  
“You're saying the Battalion invaded? But that’s absurd” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.  
“How so Agent?” Challenges Sherman. “I mean think about, the whole Battalion’s been dishonourably discharged, they won’t exactly get a hero’s welcome when they ship back home will they? So they stuck together, and became another Mercenary group, after adopting the name ‘Cursed Battalion’” Finishes Sherman. He looks at the agent’s dumbstruck expression and realises his report had been miss-informed.  
“But how would you know this?” He asks. Sherman simply stares at him with a sombre expression.  
“You really don’t know what happened here. Do you?” he asks.  
“Why don’t you enlighten us?” Says the agent. He then puts his hand in his inside suite pocket again and takes out a small, heavily used notepad in one hand, and a pencil his other hand.  
“Where do you want me to start from?” asks Sherman watching as the agent presumably writes his words down on the notepad. He then looks up at Sherman.  
“I think you’d better tell us from the beginning Mr. Mars.” He says and motions him to go on. Sherman takes a deep breath.  
“Ok, here goes.”


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter of my on going series. I've decided to upload these weekly, so as to not just spam chapters, which should also give me a chance to write out new content to maybe finally get this finished.  
> I tried to tick the 'multiple chapters' box in the editor, but it would always default to making this the 1st chapter in the series when its not. So needless to say, am very confused. I'ma do my best to clear that up soonish.  
> Either way, please enjoy the read!

I’m not entirely sure how the whole thing got started, you see my friends and I were out of town for a few days and by the time we got back, the city had already been invaded.  
“What were you and your friends doing?” Asks the Agent, as his pen moves swiftly over the small pages of his notepad.  
“I’m getting to that” replies Sherman impatiently. “Now stop interrupting”.  
Before the invasion, my friends and I had decided to take a small trip outside the city. We’d all got pretty tired of the old boring buildings and incredibly loud, littered streets, so we chose to take advantage of our weekend and do something different. So we spent the preceding week organising the whole trip. There were six of us in total.  
“What can you tell us about your friends?” inquires the agent as he flicks to a fresh page in his notepad. Sherman stops and thinks for a moment. He can’t describe them, as they are now; broken, lost, shells of their former selves. What were they before they reached the city? The agent taps his pen against the table impatiently, creating a startlingly loud noise in the middle of the silence.  
“Well?” he asks.  
As I told you there were six of us in total. There was me, in the drivers seat, even though we were all old enough to get our licenses, I was the only one who bothered. In the passenger seat was my best friend Dante Valiant. We went to college together and were in the same social studies class, and then he went on to become a Royal Army Reserve while I went to Uni. He was with us while on leave. That however, didn’t stop him from showing up in his camouflage uniform for the majority of the trip. That was his idea of a joke, but he didn’t have much of a sense of humour. His experiences made him too mature for that sort of thing. His appearance doesn’t do him any favours, everything about him’s so menacing. You’d take one look at his face and you’ll go from the most confident man in the room to a blubbering idiot. He’s good company though. Provided you’re on his good side.

“I know what you mean.” The agent shifts to in his large metal in a futile attempt to find a more comfortable position. “It looked liked his interrogator was having trouble even getting a name out of him” continues the agent.  
“You mean he’s here?” asks Sherman, eagerly leaning forwards towards he agent. “Where? And what about the rest of my friends?” Asks Sherman Hardly able to contain his curiosity.  
“How about this, you carry on telling your part of the story, and I’ll tell you were Dante is” Says the agent, amusement clearly present in his voice.  
“Fine”  
So Dante was in the passenger seat, in the back seat was Jack. He was one of those ‘glass-half-full’ kinds of guys. He also seemed able to find good in any situation, no matter how dire. A skill, which would prove useful in the following weeks. He was also a skilled engineer and programmer, having spent years mastering Java, Python and pretty much all the other relevant programming language. He was a real tech genius, as well as a joker. The complete opposite of Dante. The trip was the first time they officially met.  
Next to him was Rachel. She and I took part in the same social studies class. Our one big difference is that she spent most of her time in extra-curricular activities, archery, clay pigeon shooting and the likes. As a result she could nail a target a kilometre away, maybe more. She was the best shot out of all of us, better even than Dante, though he’d fiercely argue otherwise. She pretty competitive, loves the outdoors and anything that's there, especially animals. She's kind-hearted, but trust me you don't wanna piss her off.

The agent looks up from his notebook, “Wait, so your school had clay pigeon shooting as an extra-curricular activity?” he looks at Sherman with an incredulous expression. “In our schools we’d be lucky if we had tennis as an activity”, he says, vainly trying to mask a hint of jealousy in his words.  
Sherman stares blankly at the agent. “Really? That’s what you’re interested in ? What we did in school?” The agent gives Sherman an embarrassed look.  
“Right, sorry, carry on” He motions to Sherman to carry on with his story.

As I was saying, Rachel was good with a rifle. Next to her was Riley and between you and me, it looked like something was going on between the two of them, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I didn’t know much about Riley, all I know is that he met Rachel during one those activities. She did mention that he was a good climber, probably the best in the school, considering he apparently holds the record for scaling the wall in the least amount of time. She also mentioned he liked to research things, well all types of things really, from ancient history to current affairs. Real conversation starter, that one. I also know that he’s not originally from here, he and his family live in a small town near Epping Forest, the place we went camping. He said it was called Woodford. I remember driving past it on the way to pick him up; a nice quiet town lots of greenery and fresh air and right around the corner from the forest.  
Sherman pauses to catch his breath; his memories clearly spark some strong emotions from within him. The agent pretends to take no notice. “According to our information, you attend a college in London.” Begins the agent, “If Riley really did attend your university in London, then what was he doing all the way out in Woodford? Small town.”  
"Guess you could say that." Sherman thinks, "Population of about a couple hundred, no more than a single institution, both primary and secondary schools. Not to mention, only a clinic and no hospital for miles around." The Agent nods as he continues scribbling in the notebook. "His family actually owned that clinic. Most of the money they made went right back to the bussiness, but his father saved up enough to put Riley through to Uni." He finishes, in what sounds as genuine admiration.  
Again, the Agent nods. "And who was the last member?"  
“His brother.” Sherman says, sounding almost defeated, "He used to help their dad at the clinic." He lowers his gaze from the agent and stares at the dusty metal table. “He was the sixth member." He adds bluntly.

I didn’t know much about Riley, and I know even less about his brother. What I gathered was that he was by far younger than us, but was also exceptionally skilled with medicine and patching up wounds. Riley said it was because he helped their father run the small clinic in Woodford. He said it was for the people who didn’t have enough to afford real doctors. It was Riley’s idea to bring his brother with us. I guess he didn’t want him to feel left out, being younger and secluded out there as he was.  
“What was his name?” Asks the agent, re-introducing his stub of a pencil to paper.  
“Fletcher” Says Sherman. “His name was Fletcher.”  
The agent then stands from the table, flicking more dust particles in the air and moves towards the door. Dismayed, Sherman shouts, “Where are the rest of my friends?” the agent opens the door, flooding the dark room with light. “I told you what you wanted to know, now it’s your turn!” The agent stops moving and looks at Sherman, the man chained to a chair, in a dark dusty room.  
“Your friends are in this very facility. In the same condition as you. They’re next.” He closes the door, leaving Sherman alone in the deathly quite, blindingly dark room, with only the dust to keep him company.


	3. A Different Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In true weekly fashion, here's another chapter of my ongoing series. Boy am I glad i edit these before posting now, cos damn was I inexperienced back then. I still got a lot to learn but I'd like to think I'm improving.  
> Please enjoy!

Dante

You hear a door slam outside of the small dark room. Where did the noise come from? What caused it? All good questions, but no time to answer them now.  
The agent looks over at Dante expectantly. He just looks blankly on. The agent blinks once and stares. He keeps staring back at the agent with a confused expression.  
"What?" He asks the agent. The agent flinches, clearly taken back by the sudden word.  
"I asked Mr Valiant, if you could tell me about your friends." He speaks slowly as if dealing with a small child, a child who doesn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. Dante continues staring at the agent unmoved.  
"'Mr Valiant'? That's mighty formal of you, Mr..?"  
"Agent Booker. And I'd like to get back to the question." The agent adds impatiently.  
"Have we met?" Asks Dante, seemingly ignoring the agent’s statement. The agent stares back at him, a confused look paints his face.  
"I can't say we have"  
"Than you have no reason to address a stranger in such a way, do you?" The agent appears taken back by Dante's remark. "And you have no reason to ask about my friends." The agent attempts to conceal his anger towards Dante, but hatred is clearly present in his words.  
"Now look here kid, you and your friends were the only ones present in the city during the attack and we want to know what happened!" The agent attempts to calm down. "You're gonna tell us one way or another, you got that?" Dante looks hard at the agent, seemingly planning his next move.  
"What d'you want to know? About my friends, the attack, what?" The agent looks at Dante, hopefully. He is finally getting somewhere.  
"Alright, first question who was leading the attack?" Dante looks at the agent dumbstruck.  
"You're kidding, right?" The agent looks at Dante confused, "You've been in the city right? Seen the flags? Those goddamn pillars? And still you have no idea who we were fighting!?" The agent thinks for a moment.  
"The flags were American. Are you saying the Americans attacked us?"  
"I'm saying-"  
"Think hard about what you're gonna say next kid" interrupts the agent, "Careful you don't start world war three." Dante stares at the agent, considering his words. He realises he treads on thin ice. A war against them? We wouldn’t stand a chance.  
"Yes, they were... Americans." He begins, slowly. "But they weren't strictly American military per say." The agent appears confused.  
"Not part of the army?" He asks, "What do you mean by that?" Dante lowers his voice.  
"What do you know of the Cursed Battalion?" The agent stares at him with a face of utmost seriousness.  
"The Battalion is nothing but a rumour, a ghost story made up by bored soldiers on guard duty" States the agent.  
"They are not just a rumour!" Shouts Dante "I saw them, fought them, even trained with them for a time."  
"They trained on Jupiter" challenges the agent, "the planet specifically colonised in order to train the best the world's military has to offer, so how did a commoner like you get to Jupiter?" Dante stares at the agent with an expression of pure hatred. Who is he, to judge you? What gives him the right to act so high and mighty? Why, if he had to endure the same events that happened to you, it would wipe that smirk right of his smug face.  
Calm down, Dante. Don't let him get to you. Not now.  
Dante manages to calm down, and his hateful expression changes to a slight smile. "Well what can I say, Booker?" He lets loose a chuckle "I guess I'm not your average grunt."  
"No?" Questions the agent. "Then please, enlighten me."  
"Well if you'll shut up," says Dante, through a wide grin "Then, I'll begin."  
If you guys did your research you would know that instead of going to a university and getting a degree and all that crap, I joined up to be a Royal Army Reserve. While it was the reserve, it didn't mean we didn't see any action. You see I signed up to be part of a rapid response unit. The idea behind this unit was that we would be the first to be sent into the battle, to hold the fort while the reinforcements came like shock troops but with better gear and fewer men. We were like the tip of the spear, if you will. It took a while, but after months of training I was finally accepted into one of these RR units, specifically, the 32nd RR corps.  
"Now agent, where do you think Rapid Response units are trained?" Asks Dante  
"Jupiter" he replies. The agent looks at Dante, a question in his eyes. "I'd heard of these units before, but how come it never showed up on your file?" He asks suspiciously, as Dante begins smiling again.  
"Guess you guys didn't do your research, or it could be because RR units are off the record" he laughs. "We're Black ops. We don't exist, not even to whatever agency you work for"  
“Then, wouldn’t you get in trouble for talking about it?” Asks the agent, genuinely curious. Dante seems to consider this for a second, before eventually shaking his head. “At this point, I don’t really think it matters.”  
Anyway, as I was saying, I had finally been accepted into one of the most prestigious and dangerous military branches. As such, I had to be trained accordingly and what better place to test a trooper's mettle than the harsh surface of Jupiter. That's where I met the Battalion. Almost three years ago. They were the best of the best. Each soldier hand-picked, to fight the battles no one else could win. Now I bet you're wondering, "what's a hardened RR veteran doing on Earth." Well I wasn't discharged if that's what you were thinking. I was actually here on leave after my many years of service. I thought I'd catch up with Tank.  
The agent looks at Dante confused "The file said nothing about this 'Tank', what was it doing in London?" Dante stares at the agent as if he has three heads, to the agents' annoyance.  
"Not 'a tank', Agent. I mean 'The Tank': Sherman."  
"Alright, continue your story."  
As I was saying, I thought I'd catch up with Tank. He's my best friend, and lets face it, a pretty boring guy, so I knew he'd be doing something relaxing. So when I heard he was going camping I was mostly all for it.  
Now I think I'll skip the details of what we actually did during the trip 'cos believe me I don't need to live through that again.  
We were headed back to town in Tanks old car. In it were me and him in the front seat, Jack, Rachel and Riley in the backseat and in the far back was Fletcher, Riley's younger brother. We were all wearing jumpers and coats and any other warm article of clothing we possessed, because you know how cold it gets in the winter. Now don't worry, Tank drives an old pick up truck, so the back had tons of space to accommodate both Fletcher and our camping equipment.  
When I say we were headed back into town, I don't mean we were heading into London, and putting the whole trip behind us. What I actually mean is we were heading back to where Riley lived, because apparently he doesn't live with his family. So we were left with the huge inconvenience of driving the kid back to Wood Ford or whatever the hell it was called.  
Most of the trip took place in a pretty awkward silence 'cos we were pretty knackered after the trip, but for the home stretch, Jack, tried to start up a conversation. "So you were in the army?" He asked, in what I assumed to be mock amazement. He seemed like your standard social guy, makin' friends, startin' conversations. I just wasn't in the mood.  
"That's right guy." I answered. I was looking for the least amount of words as possible.  
"So what did you do in the army?"  
"Look, Jack, I'd love to answer all your questions, but I need to help Tank drive. It's what shotgunners do." You'd think that the average guy would take the hint after a response like that. Maybe they'd even give up the conversation. But Jack isn't the average guy.  
"Tank? Is that like his nickname?" He asked. I gave a short nod to both answer his question and end the conversation. "That's so cool, he has a nickname! Did your squad mates ever give you a nickname?" He continued. Now, we don't actually have nicknames in RR, hell we don't even share our names, 'cos our life expectancy is so short. I knew he'd keep pestering me until he had an answer, so I had to think fast.  
"Inferno" I blurted out. "That's my nickname. Inferno." I guess I didn't sound as confident about that as I felt.  
"Really? Inferno?" Said Tank. "So you're Dante 'Inferno'?"  
"Don't forget Valiant"  
"Looks like you're missing an 's'" he chuckled, and turned back to the road.  
"Wow, Inferno? That's so cool!" Jack said excitedly. "So if I was in an army, what would my nickname be?" He looked at me as if I had the perfect nickname for him. If I knew him better at the time, I probably would have said a great name, but he forgot he was actually Riley Tank and Rachel's friend. I never spent as much time with Jack. He never seemed to take anything seriously.  
So anyway, there I was, trying to come up with a nickname for this guy. After a couple of minutes thinking, I came up blank. He was still looking at me, waiting for the answer that I didn't have, but luckily, Rachel had the answer to this question. "Well a nickname should reflect ones characteristics. Take Dante for example. I think they gave him the name 'inferno' because of his short temper and fiery personality." Yea that's Rachel alright. Brains of the group. Always over-analysing things.  
"It could also be that-"  
"Rach, I'm pretty sure it's because of the game" interrupted Riley. She just looked at him as if he'd just spoken gibberish. He continued "you know the game 'Dante's Inferno'"  
"I can't say I'm familiar with it, no" she looked at him accusingly.  
"It's a crap game anyway" said Riley, embarrassed. The struggles of a guy in a relationship. They can't have opinions.  
"The question remains!" Shouted Jack, who until that point had kept quiet. Guess he enjoys other people's conversations. That, or being spontaneous. "What would my nickname be?" The answer came like a flash of lightning.  
"Joker" answered Tank. "Because let's face it you are one" this was accompanied by some agreeing murmurs from the backseats. I kept quiet, 'cos honestly I didn't care.  
"I guess that'll do for now. Ok so I'm Joker, you guys are Tank and Inferno" he said, pointing Tank and I respectively. He then turned to Riley. "You! What are your characteristics or hobbies or whatever?" He asked. Riley was taken completely off guard.  
"Uh gee I don't. . . Nothing really comes to mi-"  
"Well you enjoy researching things don't you" butt in Rachel. She had a knack for finishing other people's sentences. Or trying to at least.  
"Well yeah, but..." he started, defensively. "I don't think a nickname should be based solely on that." He looked around for validation. "There's other things that should be taken into account like-"  
"I got it!" Jack chimed in, cutting him off. "Because of your interest of researching and studying things, your name shall be Bookkeeper!" He shouted, as if it were the best thing he had come up with, ever. The thing is, it probably was.  
"That is absolutely trash" Riley replied. Jack merely shrugged his shoulders. "Can I get you to reconsider?"  
"Is Jack always this excited?" I whispered to Tank.  
He gave a slight nod "Oh yeah."  
By this point, Jack had moved on to the next person, Rachel. "So what should your nickname be?" He wondered aloud. Didn't spend much time wondering.  
"I've actually already got a nickname" she replied.  
"Yeah? What is it?" Asked Jack.  
"At the range, they call me 'Hawk' because of my accuracy" she kept mentioning how good a shot she was. I don't think it ever dawned on her how much we didn't care. Or how much I didn't care.  
"Is that jealousy I hear?" Says the agent, a slight smile on his face. Dante stares back in disgust.  
"No! It's sheer indifference. Besides everyone knew I was the better shot, and if they didn't, they found out soon enough!" The agent begins chuckling to himself.  
"Sure 'guy', whatever you say"  
As I was saying.  
"At the range they call me 'Hawk' cause I'm so accurate"  
"So now I'm gonna start callin' you 'Lady Hawk.'" Jack stated.  
"Just call her Rach" answered Riley "It's faster" He teased.  
Jack seemed to be satisfied by that. So did Rachel.  
"So we got Tank, Inferno, Joker, Bookkeeper -" I could feel Riley wince as Jack said that "- and Rach, that just leaves you little fella." Jack turned around and faced Fletcher, who seemed startled at the sudden attention.  
That was the first time I really looked at Fletcher. Riley says he's his brother, but I swear he looks nothing like him. I could see him in the rear-view mirror amongst our equipment. He was 17 years old, which made him younger than us by two or three years. At the time I remember he was wearing a small helmet with a camera attached to it. He said Riley had asked him to video the trip so he could look back on it in the future. I don't think he ever stopped recording, as a result he was always lugging around a hefty bag filled with used hard-drives. I remember he was looking at something in his hands could've been a necklace or something. It was coloured gold and it had the image of a dragon, with outstretched wings in its centre. I remember it in such detail because he would look at that thing, sometimes for hours while we were out there.  
"Whatcha got there Fletch?" Jack edged closer to Fletcher to get a closer look at the small shiny object.   
"It's a locket" he replied "My friend gave it to me a while back" he said, almost admiringly.  
"That her?" He pointed to the girl standing in the picture. Dark hair, bright eyes, it's a miracle someone like that would fall for someone like Fletcher.  
"Yea, her name's Elizabeth" Riley turned around to face his brother and extended his hand towards the locket. Fletcher instinctively handed it over to him. He studied the picture for a while before passing it to Rachel. "Oh yea! Izzy, I remember her now" Rachel gave the locket to Jack, who eyed the whole thing up and down. I swear, you give that guy something shiny, he'd entertained for hours. "I remember you told me she came in to the clinic cause she had a problem with her dog" Continued Riley. The locket had now made its way to me.  
"Hold on, I thought the clinic was for people only. Why didn't she go someplace else, or a vet even?" Asked Rachel.  
"Well I'm always glad to help, besides she said she couldn't afford a vet." Replied Fletcher. I could see the dog in the picture. It was standing next to the girl; a German Shepard. They're the same breed we train on Jupiter, genetically modified of course. I remember that breed was always prone to leg injuries due to how much they run around. I guarantee that's what she came in for.  
I held up the locket so Tank good take a look and keep his eyes on the road. "She seems nice." I handed back the locket and Fletcher took it with eager hands.  
"She is, can't wait ta introduce you guys!"  
"The'll be plenty of time for that soon's we get back." Tank called, noting the cars speed on the dashboard. Still within the legal limit.  
"How much did you charge her?" Jack enquired, as he does.  
"It was free" Jack looked at Fletcher somewhat confused.  
"Hold on, you bring a dog into a clinic that's only for people, you fix her up and it doesn't cost her anything?"  
"Well to be fair, I never said it was only for people..."  
"Man, I gotta visit this clinic of yours" Concluded Jack. "God knows I need a place like that, cos boy do I get hurt!"  
"I believe that" I said. Riley glanced at Fletcher, with a sly look on his face.  
"You know, she's been around the clinic a lot lately."  
"Yea, it's probably cos of all the free check ups" interrupted Tank. Riley seemed to consider this for a second.  
"You know what I think?" He said carefully.  
"No, but are you gonna tell us?" Said Jack.  
"I think she likes you." He concluded. Fletcher looked bewildered. He probably thought he didn't have a chance with that girl, and he was probably right. That didn't however mean he didn't have feelings for her. "And what's more, I think you like her, cos otherwise that wouldn't have been a free check up." Continued Riley, a smile on his face. It seemed like he had his brother all figured out.   
"What? No! No no no" Fletcher exclaimed blushing. "I'd give all my friends free check ups!" He explained.  
"Fletch, I was there remember? That was the first time you'd met the girl." Fletcher nodded in embarrassment. He couldn't pull one over on Riley. Not ever. "And what friends? You barely ever leave the house." Fletcher seemed a little hurt by that, but I guess it's his fault for being so antisocial.  
"Right well that just hurts. But you guys're my friends now right?" That was followed by a pretty awkward silence. "Right?" He repeated in a mock plead.  
"Yea."  
"Sure, we can be friends."  
"We'll always be brothers Fletch." Riley frowned jokingly.  
"If it means free check ups, you got a friend in me pal!"  
"Not me kid. Sorry, but we just met." I replied with a grin. "Don't take it personal kid, we just met."  
"Well four outta five ain't bad."  
Jack, as always, appeared confused. "Wait, we just met. Are we friends?" He asked. As if it wasn't obvious enough. Like don't get me wrong, Jack's a swell guy, he just tries too hard to be funny and he ends up being pretty annoying. That, and I just met him.  
"Maybe later Jack" I replied. He seemed happy with that answer.  
"So how long till we get back?" Fletcher asked, clearly unable to contain his excitement. Tank looked closely at the GPS attached to the cars dashboard. It was cheap and unreliable, but he still used it to take us camping, and back. My guess is it came with the car.  
"Don't worry lover boy, GPS says half a kilometre. We'll be there soon!" He replied not taking his eyes off the road. That's when we saw the smoke rising in the distance. "Hey Riley, is the town by any chance throwing a bonfire?" Tank asked, uneasily.  
"Not that I'm aware of" He answered confused.  
"Then we've got trouble." I said. And boy was I right


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping that Thursday train rolling bois!  
> Chapter 4 - our protagonists have finally arrived into town, and obviously things have gone tits up. But sometimes thats just the way it is.  
> Ples enjoy.

Jack

Jack gazes across the empty room. He seems to be looking for something, probably to occupy his regrettably short attention span. He looks from empty wall to empty wall, seeking any speck of interest, seemingly oblivious to the infuriated agent sitting across from him.  
“HEY! Are you even listening to me? Jack!” It’s clear that the agent will have to find some other way to get the idiot’s attention. Realising this, she holds out her hand in front of his face and repeatedly snaps her fingers. Jack shakes himself, seemingly dazed. Confusion sweeps across his face. “How long have you been sitting there?” he asks.  
“Too long” Replies the agent through gritted teeth. “Now get back to the story, what happened in the city?” She enquires, eager to get this interrogation done as soon as possible.  
“Story? What story? And who are you?” He demands. It’s unclear as to whether or not he’s faking, but it’s obvious the agent’s had enough.  
“Kid we’ve been through this, my name is Cynder-“  
“What, like ashes?”  
“What? Yeah, sure whatever. I’m interrogating you, on what happened to the city.” The agent places her head in her hands, exhausted from the long shift. “You’d just started telling me about the city - then ya heard the door slam, and I lost ya.” She looks back to Jack, who is again looking from wall to wall. Oblivious to all his surroundings. “Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Exclaims the agent, reaching over to Jack and snapping her fingers.  
“Whoa how are you making that sound with your hands?” Jack asks amazed. It’s evident that the agent is dealing with some sort of man-baby. “Jeez kid, were you dropped on your head as a baby?” Jack looks at her, with a strained expression. As if the cogs behind his eyes are finally turning.  
“Now that you mention it. I remember hitting my head pretty bad earlier. It’s how I got this sash.” He points to the top of his head, which is covered with gauze. ”Fletch checked me out ‘an said I might have trouble ‘membering things ‘an payin attention.”  
“well that explains that” says the agent. “It’s only temporary though right?”  
“Fletch said I’d be right as rain in no time. He’s a good doctor, he fixes people. Or at least he tries to.” He closes his eyes, as if remembering, some horrible event. The agent notices this and decides to pry. “What happened?”  
“Sometimes, no matter how hard ya try, you just can't save everyone. Fletch never seemed to get that.” He answers solemnly.  
“Who died?”  
“Tons’a people died, an’ most’a the time we couldn’t have done anything to save ‘em. But Fletch still tried to. ‘An when he couldn’t... It's like we were losin' him more an more”  
“Why would he blame all that on himself?”  
“Kept sayin it was his job to keep the people safe on account of he’s a doctor. So when someone died, in his eyes it was his fault, but in reality, it was all of us.” Says Jack, visibly depressed. All signs of happiness disappear from his face. The agent looks closely at Jack, unsure of what to do next.  
“Jack, What happened out there?” Tries the agent again. He stares at the agent with the same strained expression as before.  
“I’m trying to remember honest, I am!” Jack becomes increasingly frustrated by his inability to remember. “I remember getting to the city, but I don’t know what happened!” The agent attempts to calm him down, the way any adult would calm a scared child.  
“Jack, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s like Fletcher told you, you’re gonna be ok.” She says in a soft voice. Jack however, still seems somewhat unconvinced.  
“And I’ll remember everything again?”  
“Sure! It’ll just take a while, but for now what do you remember?”  
“The farthest I can remember is arriving at Woodford. But I already told you that didn’t I?” The agent lets out a deep sigh.  
“Well tell me again, then maybe when you’re done you’ll remember what happens next.” Says the agent helpfully.  
Ok. So we were drivin’ up to Woodford, having a little conversation in the car. Got to know a bit about the rest of the guys. Riley was a researcher, Dante a fighter, Fletch was just itchin’ to get home, and Tank was taking his damn time. We saw smoke rising in the distance, we didn’t know what it meant at the time. It just stood there menacingly, like a bad omen. We’d reached the outskirts of the town. Now we could really see the damage that had been dealt. All around us were the hollowed out husks, of houses. What were once homes and shelters were reduced to piles of ashes and burnt foundations, some of which were still burning.  
Inside the car we were speechless. All we could do was stare open mouthed, at the destruction, as Tank drove us through the burning maze. I remember looking over at Riley, and seeing the horror in his face. I can’t even begin to imagine how he, or Fletcher were feeling. Riley kept looking out those windows hopefully, probably wishing that his family’s clinic had somehow survived whatever sort of disaster this was. Fletch just held on to that locket as if his life depended on it. We drove further into the town. We still hadn’t seen any sign of life, it was as if we had entered a ghost town.  
“There!” Rachel shouted excitedly. The sudden loud noise startled everyone in the car. She pointed out Riley's window. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, on account of the smoke that still smothered parts of the town. Then it came into focus. A small plain building blackened by the ashes of its neighbours. It looked like just another town house.  
“The clinic.” Breathed Riley, barely above a whisper. The building had somehow survived the fires and stood there virtually unscathed, but for some reason, I didn’t take this as a good sign. Riley moved closer to the window. Whatever colour was left on his face had drained away. He’d clearly seen something, so I looked back at the building. It just looked like a regular, grey building, which admittedly in itself was pretty bizarre, considering the surroundings. Then I noticed the front door. It swung on it’s hinges, barely able to stand, and there was a dark trail leading inside.  
“Is that… blood?” Tank called from the front, hardly able to contain his fear. I heard the trunk open. It was Fletcher, rushing to the building. Riley ran out after him. “Fletcher, don’t!” He ran into the house followed shortly by his brother. I heard anguished wails from inside the house. This was followed by what I thought were sounds of a fight or a struggle. Maybe someone was in there. Waitin' for us to come back.  
At this point, we’d all got outa the car, and were anxiously waiting for them to come back. We were too scared to follow them in.  
We’d been waiting for a few minutes. It felt like hours. Then suddenly out of the shadow of the house came Riley, or his back, anyway. His shirt and hands were stained with blood.  
All we could do was stare wide-eyed, too afraid to even make a sound. He moved further outside, we could hear a scuffling sound, as if he was dragging something across the floor. It was Fletcher; he was also covered in blood, and struggled against his brother. He was desperately trying to get back in the house. “Get off me man! Get off!” He shouted frantically at his brother. Riley merely tightened his grip. “We gotta do something man, come on! Let go!” Riley bent down to his brother, not letting go.  
“Fletcher it’s okay. It’s okay.” He responded reassuringly. It seemed to calm him down, if only slightly. “There’s nothing we can do Fletch.” He continued his voice breaking. “They’re gone.” Rachel went over to him, and laid a calming hand on his shoulder. Fletcher stopped struggling, he brought his legs to his chest and hugged them, and began shaking.  
Riley stood up and turned to face us, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Riley man, what happened?” Dante took a step towards the house; a look from Riley stopped him in his tracks.  
“They’re gone.” He cried.  
Jack pauses for a second. The events become too difficult to retell. The agent looks at him sorrowfully. “Jack, if you don’t want to continue, it’s okay.” She states helpfully. He just stares at her, seemingly bypassing her comment. After a few minutes, he seems to have regained himself.  
“I-I can continue now, I think.” He says, shakily. The agent looks back at him, genuinely concerned.  
“You sure?” She asks. Jack smiles slightly at her.  
“No I’m Jack. But I’ll give the story another go.” He says, chuckling slightly. The agent stares at him with a blank expression. Jack begins to clarify, still smiling. “Uh, that was a joke. Comedy's my mechanism.” The agent keeps staring with the same blank expression, clearly not amused. Jack continues, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Carrying on.”  
So Riley had just come outta the house, dragging Fletcher out behind him. The guy stood there, covered in blood, crying, his brother wasn’t any better off. He just sat there, shaking. Rachel was crouched next to him, trying to calm him down. Then Riley told us ‘They were dead.’ We just stood there silently for a moment. Just looking at him. Trying to piece together what he was saying. Deep down I thought maybe, just maybe, he was try’na fool us or somethin’. Like a sort of twisted joke. But then again, Riley wasn’t known for being funny.  
The silence was broken by Tank who, if I might add, asked the stupidest question I’d heard. “Who’s dead?” Riley just sorta stared at him, expressionless as if to say ‘Are you serious?’ Like who the hell did he think was dead? It was Riley’s family’s clinic he’d just stepped out of, covered in blood and crying.  
“Who the hell d’you think!” Riley shouted at him, enraged. “My parents, sister! Everybody!” He continued, his voice trembling slightly. Fletcher, who was still on the floor and had seemed to calm down, began to shake again, and breathing heavily. I guess he had been reminded of what was in that forsaken place.  
"Right s-sorry!" He apologised genuinely. "It's just a lot to take in. God..." He flung his hands in the air and retreated back to the car, calculating what we were to do next.   
Dante took a few cautious steps towards the house. “D'you mind if I step inside?” he asked.   
Riley didn't even look at him. “Go ahead. I'm not fu-“ Jack’s story is suddenly interrupted by a loud buzzing sound. It echoes around the small room before eventually stopping, as quickly as it had started. Jack looks around startled, “What was that?” He looks to the agent for an answer, and she mirrors him.  
“That? Uh that was, well, um…” she appears to be at a loss for words. What was that? It doesn't look like she knows. She thinks frantically, trying to come up with a suitable explanation. “You see, most people we interrogate are a bit rowdy?” Jack looks confused.  
“So?”  
“So, uh, we have this device that is… programmed to emit a sound, whenever someone in an interrogation room curses.” She tries. Jack however, still seems unconvinced.  
“But why?”  
“Keeps the conversations civilised?” Jack seems to consider this for a moment.  
“So it's a profanity filter? Sounds kinda counter intuitive.” He chuckles. The agent looks at him quizzically. Then she puts two and two together.   
“I don't make the rules. It's protocol. I guess.” That does seem more likely.   
“You don't sound so sure.” He says suspiciously. “Anyway back to the story”  
So anyway, Riley's given Dante his go ahead ta enter the house. Now I guess I should edit out part of what he said, lest that thing goes off again. “Go ahead. I'm not going back in, that's for damn sure.” So damn's fine? Right just checking.  
He took the invitation, without a moment’s hesitation.   
Now, I was quite curious as to what was gonna be inside, so I followed Dante in. Nothing that I had experienced could have prepared me for what I saw in there. The first thing that hit me was the smell, the decaying stink of death. Instinctively, I covered my nose with my hand, in a vain attempt to keep the foul stench out. It was pretty dim in there, so it took a while for my eyes to adjust to the light. I half expected to see a sort of operating theatre, but when my eyes adjusted, I was surprised to see a small living room. Or what has left of one anyway. The furniture was scattered across the room, fragments of broken glass littered the cold floor and made an eerie crunching sound each time we moved. I guess that was Riley and Fletcher’s doing. In the far end of the room was a short staircase, which probably led to the bedrooms. The stair’s handrail had been completely busted. Maybe from someone being pushed through it.  
On the walls, what was once brown paint was now stained red with blood. On the floor were three crumpled bodies, that of Riley’s parents and sister. I didn’t really know them, but Fletcher seemed convinced they were the best parents in the world, as every kid does.  
Dante moved closer to the bodies, and I hesitantly followed. He examined the bloodstains on the wall. “Hmm, head high splatters…” He trailed off, bending down to examine the bodies. He turned over what musta been their father - an older man, dark hair with a few grey streaks, no doubt from the stress that is paired with any medical profession. Next to him, their mother - she had a kind face. Light hair tied into a bun, and bright eyes to match if I woulda guessed. Luckily they were closed. Finally was the daughter - Riley and Fletcher's sister. She chouldn'ta been a few years older than Fletcher. God it was hard to watch. Dante examined the father's face. "Single entry wound. Middle of the head."  
“What does that mean?” I asked.  
“It's like they lined them up and just executed them” He replied calmly. I noticed the blood and dead bodies didn’t seem to bother him. Guess, he got used to considering what he does for a living. Not entirely sure it’s a good thing though. The whole situation made me feel pretty nauseous.   
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”  
While dead bodies were OK with Dante, they were not OK with me. As soon as he touched that corpse, I ran right outta there and emptied my stomach all over the floor. I was followed moments later by a bloody-handed Dante.  
“You gonna be alright buddy?"  
“Gimme a sec.!” I replied through laboured breathing. “What do we do now?” Dante was looking around for the rest of the guys. We saw they’d gone back to the car, so we approached them slowly, as to not startle them. Riley was the first one to see us. He looked towards us hopefully as if maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong, and we were coming to tell him the good news.   
No such luck.  
Dante shook his head sadly. All traces of hope disappeared from Riley’s face, as he lowered his gaze to the floor, too depressed to make eye contact with anyone. As for Fletcher, well I don’t think he was really paying attention. He seemed preoccupied with something else. “What now?” He asked. The question we’d all been wondering. I looked around my group of friends. No-one had the faintest idea of what to do next. Then out of the silence, Tank spoke up.  
“Let’s look around, maybe we can find out what happened.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the closest thing we had to one. Most of the guys seemed to think it was a good idea though.  
“Yea, maybe there’s some survivors out there too,” I said, hopefully, granted it was a fool’s hope, but a hope nonetheless.  
“We should split up” suggested Dante. Rachel frowned.  
“Is that a good Idea?”  
The reply came from Tank. “No, but we can cover more ground this way.” She, however, didn’t seem satisfied by that. “Well go in pairs” Continued Tank. “Dante, your with me, Riley, you okay goin’ with Rach?” He gave a brisk nod as his reply. “Ok, Jack, that means you’re with Fletcher.” He seemed to like this idea of being in charge, the others didn’t question it and me, well I thought it suited him actually. “We’ll meet back at the car” and with that, he set off with Dante in one direction. They were followed shortly after by Rachel and Riley, who went the other way. That just left me and Fletcher alone by the car. I placed my hand on his shoulder, “You ready to go little buddy?” He shuddered slightly. He was so busy thinking ‘bout whatever, he didn’t realize I was still there, that or I’m scarier than I realised.  
“Huh? Oh, yea, we should go” He looked around, probably planning the proper route we were to take.  
“Alright where to?”  
“To Izzy’s. Gotta check she’s OK” He replied, concern clearly evident in his voice.   
“Alright, lead the way.” I followed him through the maze of black smoke and burnt houses. Some of the fires were still going, I wasn’t sure if it meant they were recent, but we knew to be careful. We passed ash pile after ash pile, with no trace of other survivors. Looking around, it was hard to believe someone could have survived the attack, but I decided not to voice my concerns to Fletcher. He still had hope.   
After a while, we’d reached a clearing in the town, maybe a square or a town centre. The fires here had all burnt out, so the air was clean of any smoke. I followed Fletcher to one of the houses, or at least I assumed it was a house. The only thing left of it was the metal frame that’s supposed to be hidden by walls. It stood there, like a skeleton, a shadow of what it once was. Fletcher looked on, wide-eyed. This, I assumed, was Izzy’s house, and if you heard the way he talked about her, you could tell she really meant something to him. Now she was gone. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
For a minute, he just stood there, looking at that wreck, shaking, as he had done earlier. I tried to comfort him, “That’s okay Fletch. I mean there’s a chance, she wasn’t even in there in the first place.” It was a bad attempt, I’ll admit, but it was the best I had. He looked at me, considering what I’d said.   
“Yea, maybe.” But he didn’t sound so sure. He wanted to believe me, I know he did, but deep down he knew the truth.   
We were about to head back to the car, when Fletcher stopped suddenly. So suddenly, that I, who was following close behind, actually bumped into him. “Whoa what’s the matter?” I asked, but he wasn’t listening. He’d walked back towards the house and was staring past the rubble. I followed his example. “What are we looking at?”   
He held up a hand for silence. “Did you hear that?” I shook my head. Fletcher moved forward, if the house was still there, he’d have been in the front room. Fletcher pointed ahead, at what looked to be a garden, maybe a backyard even. “I think it came from there”  
I moved closer, “Fletch I really don’t hear anything” I said. He kept moving forward, and I followed close behind. The closer we got to the backyard, the more I began to hear it. It started as a very low whine, o low, that I was scarcely sure I’d heard it. The noise became louder and louder. By the time we were standing in the yard, it was clearly audible, and I was able to recognise it. “Sounds like a dog maybe?” Now that we’d reached the yard, we could tell the sound was coming from inside a small wooden cube. Sorry I mean dog house.  
“Sounds hurt.” Said Fletcher concerned. He took a step towards the small structure. “I wonder. Sammy?” He called aloud. The whining stopped abruptly, and was replaced by a series of loud barks.  
I backed off slightly “He don’t sound too friendly.” Fletcher moved closer to the dog house. The barking became more frequent, and louder.  
“Sammy, it’s me Fletcher.” The dog’s shouts became lower and lower, until eventually they stopped altogether. It let out a questioning whine. Fletcher crouched and moved back slightly, so he was able to look inside. “You comin’ out?” Before he was able to finish his question, he was rushed by a mass of fur and paws. In a matter of seconds, he was pinned on the floor, with the creature standing on his chest. Alarmed, I rushed to his aid. Fletcher held up a hand. “It’s okay Jack.” He shouted over the dog’s excited yips. “Yea, I missed you too Sammy” He said as the dog showed its affection, by licking his face. “Yea, OK, can’t breathe now. Get off!” The dog quickly jumped off his chest, and started moving about erratically. I looked at the pair of them confused. Then it dawned on me, it was the same dog from Fletcher’s picture! A German Shepard, its fur was covered in soot, almost obscuring its two original colours, gold and black. I saw it moved about awkwardly, his back right leg, arching over his left as he moved forward. That was probably the injury Fletcher checked out. He seemed pretty happy for his friend’s return, then it took one look at me, flattened his ears on his head and let out a defensive growl. I moved back, holding up my hands to show I meant no harm. He placed himself between me and Fletcher, who had suddenly become aware of the situation. “Whoa hey! Hey! Ease, off buddy.” He moved closer to me, much to the dogs concern. “Sammy, this is Jack, he’s my friend.” He turned to me. “Jack this is Sammy, she’s Izzy’s” The dog seemed to acknowledge what he’d said, but she didn’t let her guard down. I’m guessing maybe she didn’t trust me much.  
I crouched down to her level. “So this is the dog from the picture?”  
“Uh yea.”  
“And it’s a she?”  
“Right.” I held out a hand to the dog. She approached it cautiously. I made to stroke her head, but she must’ve seen the sudden movement as an act of aggression. She growled and moved behind Fletcher. “She doesn’t like me does she.”  
“Well, she’s nervous around new people, but she’ll warm up to ya I’m sure of it!” I wasn’t so sure though.   
“We should probably get back to the car, see what the other guys found.”  
“Good idea. Let’s go Sammy” Fletcher led the, his dog trailing behind. I followed them close behind. After a while, we could see the car in the distance, I could make out two shapes. The dog let out a bark of joy, she’s seen somebody, and I assumed it was either Rachel or Riley, as they would be the only other individuals who would know the dog. She bounded for the car, and Fletcher and I followed close behind. The figures by the car were greeting Sammy. They turned out to in fact be Riley and Rachel. When the dog finished greeting them, it was our turn. “You guys find anything?” I asked.  
“Nope, not a soul” Replied Rachel, which was quite disheartening. “You guys find anyone?”  
“We found Sam” Fletcher replied, a smile on his face.  
“Is Izzy with you?” Sammy let out a low whine, at hearing her owner’s name. Fletcher shook his head sadly. “Oh. Well maybe the other guys found someone?” Rachel scanned the area, for any sign of the others return.  
Riley spoke up. ”That them?” he pointed over to two figures who were making their way over to the car. It coulda been them. We moved towards the figures. Sammy looked at the two and let out a low growl. The rest of us dismissed it, after all, she didn’t like strangers, and she hadn’t met either Dante or Tank.   
They were coming into view, Riley called out to them, “Hey guys!” They seemed to notice us for the first time. As they came closer, I saw that each of them was carrying something in both hands. They looked like, pipes maybe? Pipes with handles. “You find anything?” Sammy was barking like crazy. The figures were close enough now that we could make out finer details, for example, they weren’t carrying pipes. They were guns. And they weren’t Dante and Tank.  
I pulled Riley backwards. “Get back, get back!” we backed up to the car One of the men pointed at us, the other, lifted his rifle to eye level.  
BANG!   
Fletcher doubled over, placing his hands on his stomach. He groaned in pain. Riley reached over to his brother. I looked back at the two men, the one who had been pointing, stared in disbelief at his companion, who was lying face down on the ground. Now he too readied his rifle.  
BANG!  
I saw the man fall to his knees. I remember seein' the pain on his face, before he closed his eyes, and joined his companion on the floor. At first I was confused, who’d fired the shots?  
“You guys okay?” Rang a familiar voice. It was Tank. He and Dante were on the other side of the car, both had bloodied shirts and both were carrying rifles, similar to that of the other men.  
“I’m fine.” I managed to say eventually. A bit shaken, but fine. I wish I could’ve said the same about the rest of us. I looked over to Fletcher. He was on his knees, still clutching at his stomach. Sammy, rubbed against him, whining worriedly. Riley had placed a hand over his eyes. “It’s okay Fletch, it’s okay.” He said, sounding strained. “Just don’t look. Don’t look and it won’t hurt.”


	5. Change in Protocol

Fletcher  
Fletcher leans on his chair. He leans towards the right wall, were he can barely hear Dante’s voice. Or, what sounds like Dante’s voice. It sounds like he’s talking to someone, telling them about... something.   
Fletcher seems to lose interest. He slumps back in his seat and closes his eyes. How long has he been there, waiting? He lifts his shirt sleeve with a bandaged hand and looks down on his wrist. No watch. Of course.  
He drums his fingers on the table, the sound echoes across the room. For a moment the only things audible are Fletcher's incessant tapping and Dante’s droning voice. Fletcher stops suddenly. A new sound enters the fray. He shifts his eyes to the left wall; another voice. Jack.  
He leans towards the left wall, attempting to listen to the faint words. He too is talking to someone, called... Cynder? They are talking about Woodford. He sees where this is going . Fletcher sighs and settles down on his seat. He looks at the table in front of him. On it, lies his camera, attached to a small plastic helmet, a helmet that had been used and abused, barely kept together with a few meagre scraps of salvaged sticky tape. The camera too appears damaged. The films still good, but there’s no use trying to record anything. It’s too damaged to even play back the tapes.  
With a finger, he feels the chain around his neck and follows it to the locket. Slowly, he takes it out from under his shirt and examines it. The colours were still visible and the dragon in its centre hadn’t faded away. If anything, it looked clearer, as if the battles had done it some good, save a few drops of blood here and there, none of it his own. He feels about for the opening, and clicks the locket open. From the inside, he takes two small pieces of paper, one of which, is covered in creases where it has been folded. Carefully, he unfolds the paper revealing an averaged sized picture. He looks intently at it. It depicts him, his friends; Jack, Rachel Sherman and Dante, and his family. Parts of the photo are stained red, but judging by their expressions, this was taken before they left. When life was quiet and peaceful. After examining it, he carefully folds it back up and replaces it in the locket.  
He takes up the other picture, a square piece of paper, considerably smaller than the last. Its size allows it to fit easily in the locket without any need for folds. Again, Fletcher looks fondly at the picture. There are only two things visible in this one, a dog and a girl.   
She appears to be Fletcher's age. Kind eyes, warm smile, happy. The dog stands next to her, almost waist-high, tail presumably wagging, tongue lolling out the gaping mouth.  
He looks deeply at the two figures smiling in the sun, posing for the camera. Those were happier times. It seemed like years ago, but in reality it’d just been a few months. It’s funny how much things can change in such a short period of time. Fletcher leans back in his chair, picturing those happy days in his mind.  
“Not long now. Just gotta get through whatever this is.” He says longingly. He puts the picture back in the locket, and conceals it under his shirt.  
Without warning, the ground shakes, and a sudden buzzing sound vibrates through the room. Startled, Fletcher falls from his seat. From the floor he looks around for the source of the sudden noise. It seemed to come from the left wall, where Jack was. Cautiously, he approaches the wall and places his head next to it. At first, nothing can be heard, then slowly, Jacks voice vibrates through the wall.  
“What was that?”  
“That? Uh that was, well, um…” Begins a female voice. Fletcher moved closer to the wall, curious as to the answer. After a long pause, the voice continues. “You see, most people we interrogate are a bit rowdy?”  
“So?”   
“So, uh, we have this device that is… programmed to emit a sound, whenever someone in an interrogation room curses.” The female voice doesn’t sound too sure of that statement.   
Fletcher moves away from the wall. “A profanity filter?” He ponders aloud, “Why would they need something like that?” he returns to the wall, attempting to find answers to his questions.  
“But why?” Rings Jacks voice.  
Why indeed.  
“Keeps the conversations civilised."  
Fletcher tilts his head at the wall. "Seem's a little-"  
"-Counter intuitive." Finishes Jack's voice. After a pause, Fletcher nods in agreement.  
The stranger’s voice then pipes in “I don't make the rules. It's protocol. I guess.”  
“You don't sound so sure.”  
Fletcher takes a step back from the wall. "Somethin' fishy's goin' on."  
From the other end of the room, a sudden click is audible, as the door is unlocked. Fletcher takes his place on one end of the table, as a shadowy figure appears at the door.  
“Uh... Hi.” Says Fletcher, still standing by the wall.   
The stranger takes his seat across from Fletcher. “You must be Fletcher. Please take a seat.” He motions with his hand to the free chair across from himself. His accent is distinctly American, and he doesn't appear to be wearing any sort of uniform.  
Fletcher takes a seat and eyes the individual. “And you must be Sherlock.” He replies drily. "To what do I owe this pleasure, detective?"  
The Agent chuckles lightly. “You’re here, Fletcher, because you have valuable information we want to know. As for who I am, I’m an Agent of Truth, an interrogator.”   
Fletcher's eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. “Well I coulda guessed the second part. But an agent of truth? Really?” The agent nods his head. "I see they got their top guy's for us."  
“You seem to know a lot about the Agents. How?”  
“My brother.” He replies. "He's mad into research. Used ta have this binder full a random facts."  
The agent leans forward. “Like what?”  
“Well about you agents, he said you guy's were mostly based around Guantanamo Bay. CIA had you leading interrogations for the most notorious of criminals - Black Market dealers, terrorists 'an the like. Guess they set you after small fry now." The agent nods as this is all true. Fletcher continues "And this one real random fact I remember Riley mentionin' was that when interrogating gangs, each agent went by a call-sing, the first agent’s sign would start with an ‘A’, and the other agents would follow suit.”  
“All true.” comments the agent, impressed.  
“Damn I though he was makin' that last one up."   
“I'm Agent Clarke” He extends his hand towards Fletcher. He looks at the agent confused.  
“Clarke? Shouldn’t yours start with a ‘D’?” The agent, looks at Fletcher, panicked for a moment.  
“How’d you figure?”  
“Well, Sherman was our leader, so it reasons that you'd interrogate him first. I heard Dante talk next, that meant he had ‘B’’, and I heard Jack was talking to a ‘Cynder’.” He points to the Agent tilting his head. "Shouldn't that make you D?"  
Again, the Agent looks impressed. "Well reasoned. But rest assured, I am call-sign C. Cynder, happens to be that Agent's real name. She's a new recruit so chances are she's just having first day jitters.” Replies Clarke, casually.  
"get that often?" Fletcher gives him a suspicious look. "Recruits interrogating on their first day?"  
Clarke nods "You are small fry after all."  
“I’m not buying it.”  
“Well, you don’t have to.” Now the agent was looking at Fletcher in a confused manner. “Wait so you could hear the room next door?”  
“Yea. Still can. Barely”  
The agent objects. “But that’s impossible, these walls are 12” thick, concrete walls.”  
“Well it doesn’t stop the voices. Or the profanity filter for that matter.” Continues Fletcher.  
"Profanity filter?”  
Fletcher looks straight at Clarke. "Yea. Cynder said it was protocol.”  
“Did she now?” The agent Chuckles. “I’m gonna have to talk to that girl.”  
“So there is no protocol”  
"No." He laughs.   
"So either she's brand new or... you two aren't really agents are you?"  
"Let's just hear your say your story." He replies submissively.  
"I don't think I should." Replies Fletcher. “Besides, why do you need my story? It’s just gonna be the same as the other guys.”  
“Like I said, you have information we want."   
“Sure.” Fletcher glances at the camera, concern in his eyes.  
"Go on then, it's not like you have any other options."  
Fletcher narrows his eyes. "Alright fine."  
We’d just found out that Woodford had been taken over by a… hostile force. I guess. We were scared, us just being a teenager, five young adults and a dog, we didn’t know what to do. Food an' shelter were options we thought about, but we also to look for help. Some wanted to fight. Understandable. Not me though. Being raised as a doctor of sorts, I’m more of a healer than a fighter. Either way, one thing was for sure, we needed to know how to defend ourselves, and this is where the likes of Rachel and Dante really came in handy. As I’m sure you’re aware, both were pretty handy with rifles.  
Alright, so we’d just looked around what was left of the town, I was paired up with Jack. After a little while of searching, we found Sam, she’s my friend’s dog, and after greetings were exchanged we headed back to the car. It was parked, outside the clinic, a short way up the road. It looked so out of place, amongst the burning wrecks surrounding it. At the car was my brother and Rachel, I’m not sure how long they were waiting, but one thing was for sure, they hadn’t found anyone. You could tell by their sombre expressions, and the fact that no-one else was there.  
The five of us decided to wait for Tank and Dante before figuring out what to do next. We didn’t wait long. In the distance we saw these two guys approaching the car and naturally, we thought it was them. I mean who else could it’ve been? It was just us, in that ghost town. Or so we thought.  
The warnings came from Sammy. She started barkin’ like crazy soon as she saw those guys. I didn’t look too much into it, because she don’t like strangers much and, well she hadn’t met either of those two yet. I remember they were pointing at us, and one started raising his hands. Next, I hear this loud noise, like a bang. Pain erupted from my chest. I doubled over, placing my hands tightly on the point of impact. The last thing I remember seeing was one of the men falling over, then my brother placed his hand over my eyes.  
“It’s okay Fletch, it’s okay. Just don’t look. Don’t look and it won’t hurt.”  
“Too late” I groaned. I looked down to my chest, to glimpse the damage. Nothing. No blood, no holes, nothing. I hadn’t been shot, but the pain was unbearable.

“Hold up” The agent looks at Fletcher, puzzled. “You’re saying, you didn’t get shot?” Fletcher replies with a brisk nod. “Then, why were you actin’ like you got hurt?” Fletcher scratches his head, considering the agent’s words before continuing.  
"Kinda hard to explain" He replies thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard of mirror-touch synesthesia?" Clarke slowly shakes his head. "No? Long-shot anyway." Fletcher clears his throat. "But you know of mirror neurons right? Little buggers that fire up when you observe a familiar behavior, giving you the same feeling that they have. Well mirror-touch synesthesia is a rare condition that makes you feel the same way you see another person feels. They touch their cheek, you feel a sensation on your cheek." He looks to Clarke for questions.  
"I got you so far."  
"Now, under normal circumstances, this only effects an individual on a minor scale. But unfortunately, my body is not a normal circumstance. Dad got me in a check up one time and he said it was like all my bodily functions were on overdrive. My injuries, if treated, heal at a faster speed than anyone in my family at least. My senses, especially hearing are more... well, sensitive. But this means that my mirror neurons are also on overdrive. If I see someone get hurt, even from a minor injury, I can feel it as though it's my own. So I didn't get shot. But it sure as hell felt like it did."  
“None of this sounds... real.” Replies, Clarke, unsure of what to think.  
“Trust me, mirror neurons are real.” Fletcher replies with a grimace.  
“well i don't doubt that. How long you had it?”  
“As long as I can remember. When I was a kid, it was just these, like, minor sensations. A tingling feeling every now and then. But as I got older, it started to get worse."  
"And you worked at the clinic during all this?" Fletcher nods. "Why would you do that to yourself?"  
"Sure it hurt, but with an ability like that, it meant I could really help people you know? Localise their pain, feel exactly how it hurts. It takes a lot of guesswork out of the job."  
“Must've been hell."  
“Wasn't all bad. The clinic was usually always stocked with painkillers." Fletcher nods to himself with a slight smile. "I'm just glad I never got addicted to 'em."  
“Did they know about the condition?”  
“The family. Hell even Izzy knew, after she came in with Sammy. We dealt with it best we could. I was always stocked up on painkillers.”   
The agent shakes his head sympathetically. “Sorry, who's Izzy?”  
“My friend. The owner of the dog I mentioned. But anyway where was I?"  
Oh, yea.

The two soldiers had been shot by Dante and Tank. Now that the main threat had been taken care of, they crowded around me.  
“You okay Fletch?” Came Riley’s voice, heavy with concern. I removed his hand from my face.  
“Yea, great.” I gasped. “Just a bit winded.” I stood up, and with a hand still placed tightly on my chest, I leaned on the car. Tank stood on the other side of the car with Dante. Both carried rifles in their hands. Possibly lifted off other soldiers. Satisfied that we were all okay, he began issuing orders.  
“You guys stay here. Dante, let’s check up on those two.” He pointed towards the two bodies. I didn’t look, for fear of more pain.   
“You got it chief.” Replied Jack, and gave him a mock salute. With that, they left the five of us by the car. I turned to Riley.  
"Hey Riley, would you mind getting me some painkillers? There should still be some in the clinic.” I would’ve gone myself, but I just couldn’t go back in there. Not after seeing what had happened. I think Riley could tell. “Sure brother. Liquid's or the pills?”   
"Pills." I gasped. I hate needles.  
I watched him approach the building, and disappear inside.  
Jack turned towards me. “Jeez, Fletch. For a sec I thought they got ya.”  
The other guys didn’t know about my condition, aside from Rachel. I thought telling the other's wouldn't hurt. I gave Jack the cliff notes of the condition. He just stared at me with a mix of confusion and disbelief.  
"None of this sounds... real." He replied.  
"Trust me, the pain is."   
“How you feeling?” Asked Rachel.  
“Hurt mostly. That’s why I asked Riley to get pain killers. Ya really gotta learn to listen, Rach.” I chuckled. Laughter, is one of nature’s best painkillers. Well that and weed, but weed is served at the clinic.   
She replied mockingly, “That’s not funny Fletch! You really had us going.” She wore a worried look on her face. I smiled back, reassuringly.   
A whining sound came from below, and I felt something press against my leg. Sammy thought I’d gotten hurt too. She looked up at me with her big amber eyes. I patted her head.  
“Hey, quit your whining, I’m fine.” Sammy always got upset when one of us got hurt. That’s dogs for ya, I guess. I tried explaining my condition to her a bunch a times, but I don’t think she ever truly understood it. “Yes, Sammy, it hurts, but not because I got hurt, he got hurt.” All it did was confuse the hell outta her.   
She stopped whining almost immediately, I stood there, petting her for a bit. The best way to calm her down.  
“Oh look, they're coming back.” Jack broke in. I glanced in their direction, and regretted it immediately, the pain sneaking its way back into my chest. I quickly looked away, breathing heavily as I did so.  
See, even if the person’s dead, I can still feel it a few seconds after their passing. Caught me off-guard on a fair few occasions.  
Jack looked back over to me “You alright?”  
“Fine.” I tried my best to sound confident, but I don’t think it worked. Seconds later we were joined by Dante and Tank, who carried an additional two rifles, gear from the fallen soldiers. Tank spoke first. “Where’s Riley?”  
“Right here.” He answered. He’d just made his way out of the house, and approached us in a few long strides. He extended his hand to me, which I saw, grasped a small white bottle. I took it from him gratefully. “Thanks brother.” I unscrewed it and dropped two pills in my hand, I then became aware of the two pairs of eyes staring at me, Dante and Tank. “Pain killers.” I said simply, and popped them in my mouth, immediately relieving the pain.  
Tank gave a confused sideways glace at Riley.  
“Right... Anyway, guys, uh we got some bad news.”  
“What is it?”  
Dante continued “Those soldiers, they were from the 501st Rangers.” Rachel and my brother looked at him in disbelief. Jack and I, had no idea who they were.  
“What? You sure?” Asked Riley incredulously.   
Dante nodded. “Yea. Had the insignia and tag on their shoulders. No doubt they were 501st.”  
“But how is that possible?” Asked Rachel.  
“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you are.”  
Jack broke in. “Sorry to interrupt, but care to let us in on the conversation?”  
It was Riley who answered “The 501st Rangers Battalion was one of the United States’ most successful military groups, achieving hundreds of commendations for their feats.” He explained, his voice drowned in awe and fear.  
“That is, until they were all discharged dishonourably.” Finished Rachel, glancing at Riley for approval. Jack eyed the couple.  
“I know how you know, but how did you know that?” He asked, pointing first at Riley, then Rachel.  
She just shrugged. “I guess I’ve just picked up a few things from his researching.”  
Dante broke in. “The better question would be, ‘what do we do now?’” He looked around at us. “Any ideas?”  
Tank seemed to take charge again. “We need to find supplies first. All these houses, there must be something we can use. Then, we're gonna have to find a way to defend ourselves.”  
“Well, we got four rifles between us. Maybe you guys can teach us how to use ‘em, while the other two go find supplies?” Suggested Jack helpfully, motioning towards Dante and Rachel.  
“I can go for a supply run.” I put in. I was in no hurry to use those guns.   
“I’ll go with Fletcher.” Added Riley.  
Tank reviewed the plan. “Right you two, gather supplies from the houses, and don’t stray too far. We’ll be right here by the car.” We both nodded in agreement, and started off on our way. “And take the dog with you!” He called after us. I’d completely forgotten about Sammy! I turned back, and saw her growling at Tank and Dante in turn. She doesn’t like strangers, see. Don’t trust ‘em. But give it a while, and she can warm up to anyone. I let out a whistle, and she ran up to us. We walked around the corner, leaving our friends to play with their toys.  
“D’you think it’s a good idea? Them practising with them guns I mean. Won’t it attract attention?” I asked. Riley just shrugged his shoulders.  
“The way I see, if people were still here, they’d a come by now.” I guess he was right. “How you holdin’ up Fletch?”  
“Fine. Just shaken I guess.”   
“Same” He sighed.  
“Wish we knew what happened though.” Riley stopped suddenly.  
“Well, haven’t you asked Sam?” I shook my head.  
“She hasn’t said much since I found her. ‘Sides, I couldn’t with all the guys there now could I? They’d think I’m some whack job that thinks he can talk to dogs.”

Fletcher pauses for a second, and looks at the agent. “Before I go on, I should explain. See I-“  
Clarke interrupts. “You’ve got a translation bracelet.” He says simply. Fletcher stares at him, mouth open in mid-sentence, confused. The agent points to Fletcher's left arm. He looks down and sees the small metal band that surrounds his arm. It looks like a watch, but bigger and with a circular screen. Below it is a radial, with the names of various animals written around it. It points to the ‘Dog’ function. “Rare piece of tech. Reports say the Battalion soldiers were using them too.”  
"Oh right, yeah..." Fletcher stares silently at Clarke, visibly confused. His only reply is a slight wink. So slight it could've easily been mistaken for a random eye twitch.“Yea. Let's go with that for now.”  
Anyway, back to the story.  
“Why don’t you ask her now?” I stared at him for a second, considering his words. Then I bent down to Sam.  
“Well girl? What did happen?”  
She became panicked. All she could manage to do was whimper and whine, as she shook restlessly from side to side. I put a calming hand on her head and pet her. “Hey, hey, Sammy its okay, it’s okay.” I said reassuringly. Riley came next to me, and he too began petting her. “I know you’re, scared, and hurt, and I want to help, but I can’t, if you don’t tell me what’s up.” The whimpering subsided, but she continued shaking. “Okay girl, let’s try this again. What happened?”  
It took her a while to muster up the courage to talk, and when she did her voice was weak and shaky. “They came at us. Before light. They took everyone. All the two legs’ all the animals. Everyone.” Two legs was humans, obviously. She hadn't yet mastered the English language.  
“Keep going.” I urged. “Where did they take ‘em?”  
“They were put in big roaring machines. They were taken to the city.”  
“What she sayin’?” Asked Riley. Since he didn’t have a… bracelet of his own, all he would have heard would be her barking.  
“She says they put everyone in trucks, including the animals, and moved them to the city.” I looked at Riley, confused. “Why would they take the animals?” He shrugged his shoulders again.   
“Meat? I dunno?” I turned back to Sammy. “Why didn’t they take you?”  
She whimpered. “My leg. Didn’t think I was more than a waste of fur!”   
“But that’s good right? I mean, at least you’re here.” I said.  
“They took Elizabeth!” She growled. As with most dogs, Sammy was fiercely loyal to her owner. Always looked out for Izzy, made sure she was safe. In a way, I knew how she felt. “I was supposed to protect her and instead I just let them take her away!”  
“Hey, that wasn’t your fault. Bad leg remember? There was nothin’ you coulda done.” I told her reassuringly.   
“I miss her so much.”  
“I do too. But don’t worry, we’ll get her back.” I said, though I wasn’t sounding so sure about it.   
A shot rang around the town. We looked back the way we had come, where the sound seemed to originate. “Must be the guys testing out the guns.” Riley informed. “Guess we’d better get a move on then Fletch.” With that, he turned back to the road and started walking. There was an upturned wheelbarrow, its red painted sides, dirtied with mud. He turned it the right way up and began dragging it, as he walked. I heard Sammy whine again. “Those were the same sounds I heard when they were here.”   
“Don’t worry Sam, it’s just the other guys.” She tilted her head to one side. Universal dog gesture for ‘What?’ “You know, the people that were just with us! Rachel’s with them.” She seemed satisfied with that.  
“Oh. I hate those contraptions. They’re only useful for loud noises and slaying.” We caught up with Riley.  
“Yeah I don’t like guns either.” Riley’s ears seemed to prick up.  
“Well Fletch, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to get used to ‘em. Something tells me we’re gonna be seeing a lot of those.” I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew he was right.  
“Yea, but I won’t have to use one. Will I?” I pleaded.  
The reply came quickly. “You know what they say ‘bout desperate times.”  
“Aw come on man.” I could see where he was going with this, and I tried my best to stop it as soon as possible. “I don’t wanna shoot anyone.” He wasn’t budging.  
“You think I do?” He turned to me, his eyes bore into mine. “You think any of us do?” I thought for a moment.  
“Well wasn't that Inferno guy in the Army?” Riley gave a loud sigh and continued on his way. I followed shortly behind. “And Sherman didn’t seem to hesitate when he shot that guy!” I still had no reply from Riley. Maybe I had to try a different approach. “Look Rye, all I’m sayin’ is that we don’t have to kill anybody.” He turned on me again. “We won’t have a choice, Fletcher!” I stopped on my tracks. I’d never seen Riley so pissed before, and he’s usually one of those, like, really calm guys you know. No matter how much you screwed up, he’d never get angry. Something musta snapped that day. “Look around Fletch.” He gestured to the destruction that lay around us. “Look at what they did to everyone. You think they’ll treat us any different? They killed Mom! And Dad Nellie without a moment’s hesitation, and they’ll do the same to us!” Again, I knew he was right, but I still wasn’t so sure about the whole thing.  
“Please Rye, don’t make me shoot anyone. ‘Sides, you know what’d happen if do manage to hit someone.”  
“I know it hurts little brother, but right now, it’s a matter of life and death. When the time comes, I know you’ll make the right choice.” He continued off to the nearest standing house. I stayed back with Sam for a bit, and watched him approach the structure. “I hope your right Rye. I really do.” Sammy looked up at me. “Right about what?”  
“It’s a human thing. Don’t worry about it bud.” I looked back towards Riley. He’d disappeared inside the house. “C’mon let’s catch up.”  
We went house to house, looking for supplies. As most were already fully stocked for the upcoming week, food wasn’t a problem. We did have some trouble finding some meds though. The ones we did find were mostly expired. “We’ll just take some from the clinic.” Riley replied simply. We always kept it stocked up with painkillers and disinfectants, as well as some bandages.  
We’d walked halfway around town, the wheelbarrow filed with food and water, And a few plastic bags containing some knives and blunt instruments. You know, for self-defence.  
Suddenly Sammy stopped. I’d almost trodden on her. “Why’d you stop?” I asked, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy looking at the skeleton of a burned down house. She began walking slowly towards it. I didn’t know what was so special about it. It just looked like any other burned down house. Then I realized.  
“It’s Izzy’s house.” Riley echoed my thoughts. We musta doubled back without me realising it.I looked at Sammy, she’d kept going towards it, almost in a trance-like state. I turned to Riley. “Uh, give us a sec Rye.” I moved to Sammy before he could argue. She was standing in the ashes of the old house, staring at something shiny in the dust. I bent down and picked it up. It was a small dog collar. It was plain and handcrafted from leather. There was a circular tag on its front, on which was imprinted the word ‘Samantha’.  
She stared at the artefact in my hand for a few moments, then looked around distantly. “This was our den.” She said. “Now it’s gone. And so is Elizabeth.” She looked down sullenly. “Everything is lost.” She whined.   
I hate seein’ my friends sad, but I didn’t know what to say. I mean, things were looking pretty bleak. “Not everything. You still got me, right?” No response. “And Riley and Rachel are still here.” She continued looking down at the ashes sulkily. “I miss her.”  
“So do I. We’ll get her back, Sam. That’s a promise.”  
“But how do you know?” She asked.  
I looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t. But it helps, to think positively.”  
“How can I be positive when everything I once knew is gone?”  
“She’s not gone Sammy. She’s just lost, and it’s our job to find her.” I held out the collar in front of her face. “And what would she say if you found her, without your collar on?” She gave a low whine. The dog’s version of a slight chuckle. “Sammy, who many times did I tell you keep your collar on? Girl if they saw you goin’ down the streets without a collar, they’d take you in for sure!” Her tail began wagging. She could probably remember those good old days. I adjusted the collar on her neck, not too tight, but just loose enough to allow for easy breathing. I stood back and looked at her, standing there wagging her tail, with the collar on. It was like a blast from the past.  
“Atta girl. Now let’s say you and I go find ourselves Elizabeth.”  
“Let’s go!” She barked. I turned to Riley, who was looking off in the distance. I stood next to him. “What’cha lookin’ at?”   
He held up a hand for silence. “You hear that?” I did. It sounded like someone was shouting, and what’s worse, it seemed to be coming from the direction of the car. “Let’s go!” He shouted, and raced towards the direction of the commotion, wheelbarrow in tow. Sammy and I followed close behind.


	6. Sierra 1-2

Sherman  
He sits in the chair twiddling his thumbs, anxiously glancing from wall to wall. It seems like an eternity since the man in the suit left him alone in the dark.   
What could he be doing?  
A thought that weighs heavily on Sherman’s mind. The man wants to know what happened in the city. What they did. What they were forced to do. Now’s the time to come clean. But how can you tell him what you did.  
The door creaks open, revealing the same man as before. He sits opposite Sherman without saying a word, too occupied with a small notepad. It’s not the same notebook as before. He must have run out of space.  
Sherman interrupts the man’s work, unable to contain his curiosity. “So where’d you go?”  
The man replies, without taking his eyes off the tiny book. “Cross referencing your side of the story with the others.”   
“My side of the story?” He looks at the man confused. “You left before I could even start it. I only said that-“  
“You were coming back from a camping trip correct?” Sherman nods in agreement. “Luckily for you, that checks out with what your friend said.” The man continues scribbling furiously on the notepad, his hands a blur.  
“Well... yea. So we good?” Asks Sherman. The man shakes his head.  
“Seems the other guys’ve cocked it up. Got your friends telling each person different parts of the story, and we can’t check their reliability.”  
“Wait, but didn’t you just say that my side of the story checks out with what my friend says?”  
The man stops writing. “That's just a small section of a bigger picture. We’re gonna need some more authentication.”   
Sherman raises his voice. “We’re not making this up, if that’s what you’re sayin’” The man looks at Sherman with an expressionless face. “So every word of what you and your friends say is true, is it?”  
“Yes! Every word.” The opens up his notepad, briefly scanning the pages for a specific passage. After reading, he turns back to Sherman.  
"Structures materialising out of thin air?" Sherman nods. "Collars that allow communication with animals?" Again Sherman nods. "Dragons?" Sherman catches himself mid-nod.  
“W-what?” He looks at the man, thinking it to be some sort of joke.  
"You heard me right. Dragons." The agent repeats simply. Sherman stares at him silently, mouth cocked slightly open. “Now do you see why we think your story’s unreliable?”  
"People said they saw things out there... but dragons?" He repeats, genuinely confused. "Who was it?"  
The Agent turns around his notebook, showing the page to Sherman. "Seems it was your friend Fletcher."  
"It would've been him." Sherman agrees, shaking his head. "Kid's a stellar doctor, but he has what you'd call an over-active imagination."  
"Why'd you say that?"  
Sherman shrugs his shoulders. "Kid has his quirks. " The Agent nods, once again scribbling in his notepad. "Strangest thing was that he'd pretend to be hurt and then take painkillers for the supposed 'pain.'"  
"And this rubbed you the wrong way?" Sherman nods. "Explained it as having defective mirror neurons or something. Now I realise I'm no medical practitioner but that doesn't seem remotely possible - feeling someone else's pain like that." Sherman shakes his head. "Kid was prolly' just hooked, using his job at the clinic to feed his addiction."  
"Any other 'quirks?'"  
Sherman lets out a puff of air. "Nothin' as bad. He did start talkin' to himself at one point. Full length conversations too, and I realise it's normal for people to talk and argue with themselves out loud... but it was weird when he started losing the arguments.It was like he'd disassociate from himself. He himself even mentioned that talking to yourself was a sort of coping mechanism some people did when they'd been through a traumatic event. That one makes sense."  
“Yes. That could also explain the reports about people being able to talk to animals.”  
Sherman gives a short laugh, "Ha, yea that parts true." He motions to his left forearm. "May I?" The agent gives a curt nod, allowing Sherman to freely roll up his sleeve, revealing a metal bracelet around his sleeve. "The Battalion were using these on the local wildlife." He explains. "Put it on an animal, they'll follow your commands to the letter. Put on yourself, and it works as a translation device. Jack actually dismantled one of these and reverse engineered it. Said it works by using your brains delta waves or something like that." He shakes his head, showing his cluelessnes “But we didn’t get ‘em till we reached the city, and he was talkin’ to that dog since way before that.”  
"Extraordinary." Replies the agent, seeming genuinely amazed. "But how could they create technology this advanced?"  
"That's what we were wondering for the most part. We always seemed to be a step behind. I can guarantee most other discrepancies'll stem from the Battalion's technology."  
"I see. That would explain this other statement of his, where he says you and the others were flying above the car.”  
Sherman stirs in his chair. “Oh, actually that's quite an easy explanation, because that technology is in fact ours. The agent looks confused.  
“I'm using 'ours' gen- lemme explain...”  
We’d decided to look around town and we agreed to meet back at the car, soon as we saw something. Dante and I started walking down the street, looking for something, anything that could help us piece together what’d happened As Dante was… experienced in the art of war, I thought I’d get his opinion. “What d’you make of all this?”  
“Town’s people gave up.” He trudged on wordlessly. I attempted to pry some more information. “What makes you say that?”  
“If they hadn’t, they’d be littering these streets.” He replied coldly. His face was emotionless, but I could tell from his tone how he really felt. See Dante may act tough at times, and come off as a bit of a bell-end. But that’s just ‘cos circumstances change people. Happens to everyone.  
"Harsh." I nodded. "And grim, but alright."  
After years of fighting, he’d finally come home. A place that, for him, was untouched by the horrors of what he’d witnessed. A place where he could feel safe. No rest for the wicked, I guess.  
“So where should we look?” I trailed behind at a slower pace, taking in all the carnage.   
“Check the streets for any survivors.” He glanced around. “Doubt anyone stayed in the buildings.” He was right, most were up in flames. Graves to people foolish enough to seek shelter in them.  
“Then what?”  
“Jeez Tank, can you do somethin’ other than ask questions all the time!” I was unfazed by his aggression. Being his friend so long, I got used to it. He’s got a short temper see. Almost thought he'd start somethin' with Jack on the ride back.  
“Alright, calm yourself! Just asking is all.” We’d reached the end of the road, Dante stopped abruptly and held out an arm, indicating to stop. He stood there for a few seconds, tense as all hell. “What is it?”  
“Shhh!” He tilted his head forward, trying to catch some inaudible sound. “You hear that?” I couldn’t, but whatever it was, it agitated him badly. “It’s gettin’ closer! Get back!” He pushed me backwards, behind a burning building.  
“Dante, I seriously don’t hear anyth-.” He clamped a hand over my mouth. Then I heard it. The sound was very low, but ascending. It seemed like two voices talking, accompanied by a pair of footsteps. As the voices got louder, I could hear what sounded like radio static and the voices became audible.  
“Repeat HQ, we are in the hot-zone, what are your orders?” The voice that replied was broken up by the static.  
“Sierra- -search- -destroy - - remaining survivors. Rendezvous - - - Sierra two - - - objective completed.” The radio cut out.   
“Damn piece a shit!” Called a frustrated voice. “HQ you’re breaking up, repeat your last, over.” He was answered by another voice, not from the radio. “Aw would you give it a rest Mitchell? We know the orders; find the target, kill the target, along with any other survivors.” The voices moved, so they sounded like they were coming from the middle of the road. “I know the order. Doesn’t mean I like it though.” The person who must have been Mitchell replied, scornfully.  
“You’re not paid to like orders. Just meant ta follow ‘em.” Came the other voice.   
I turned to Dante. Removing his hand from my mouth, I asked. “What do we do?” Hardly able to contain the fear in my voice. He peaked around the corner of the building, his eyes scanning the area, calculating. I heard the footsteps move farther away.  
Dante held up a hand. “Wait here.” He whispered, and with that he stalked towards the two voices. Now it was my turn to peak around the wall. I could see Dante had taken cover behind an abandoned car on the road. Farther down the road were two men. Both were wearing the same kinda stuff; camouflaged uniforms, thick metal helmets, which covered the top of their heads, basic military gear. Both carried a side arm, holstered on their left hip, and both seemed to be carrying something, presumably rifles. They had their backs turned to us, Dante used the advantage to creep up on them. I followed, a way behind, just in case he needed help. We were almost upon them. “So what d’ya think this guy did?” Called Mitchell.  
“All I know is, we’re getting’ paid some big bucks ta bring him down. But remember, that's the secondary objective.” Responded the other man.  
“Yea. Sure.”  
Dante picked up a small rock, of the hundreds that littered the ground, and positioned himself behind the soldier. I too handled a rock, but remained behind cover.   
Just as Dante was about to strike, the soldier turned on him, pointing the rifle at his chest. Dante tackled him to the ground, instinctively, I rushed to my friend’s aid. They wrestled on the floor for a bit, both trying to land successful punches. Mitchell finally became aware of the situation and tried to tear Dante off the other soldier, he hadn’t seen me yet. I hurled my stone straight at him, hitting him straight on the head, unfortunately, due to his helmet he suffered no immediate damage and turned his attention to me. I quickly closed the distance between us and bashed the rifle out of his hand, it landed on the floor a few paces from us. Un-discouraged, he dealt me a swift blow to the head, followed by another, then another, then a kick. I fell to the ground, dazed. He clasped his hands around my throat, I struggled back, desperately trying to breathe. I felt around on the ground for somethin’ I coulda used ta get him off. My hand closed around a stone and I bashed it into his face. I had to do it twice more to get him to release me. Upon the third blow, my hand came away red.   
Blood. His blood.  
Having failed his initial strike, he backed off, fumbling for his side arm. In seconds, he drew it and it pointed at my head. Before he managed to get a shot off, Dante hit him in the back off the head with the but-end of a rifle. Mitchell fell face down, either unconscious or dead. At that point, I didn't care which.  
Dante held out a hand. “You OK bud?” I took it gingerly.  
“Yea.” I spluttered shakily. I motioned to the limp, bloodied figure sprawled out on the ground. “He dead?”  
“Yeah.” Came the emotionless reply.  
“Jesus.”  
“Either him or us.” He said indifferently. Dante had also suffered a few bruises, lumps on his head and jaw where he'd been hit and a small gash on his arm, trickling red liquid. He bent down to examine the deceased soldier, I did the same. He checked first, the soldier’s right shoulder. There were markings, where something had been scratched out.  
“What have we got here?” I pointed at the scratches on the uniform.  
“It’s more what we don’t got. See, right shoulder should have a flag, usually the flag of whatever country’s army this guy worked for.” He moved closer, inspecting the patch in higher detail. “Since it’s been scratched out, safe to assume this guy had gone rogue.”  
I inspected Mitchell’s uniform. “Same as this guy.” I called. “So where d’you think they’re from?”   
The reply was swift. “America.” I looked at him confused.   
“What makes you say that?” I asked.   
He pointed at their rifles. “Those are M4A1s. Standard US military carbines.”  
I looked at him, impressed. “What else can their uniforms tell us?”   
Dante moved to the soldier’s left shoulder. “Here should be his rank and unit symbol.” He explained. “What’d I tell ya.” Sure enough, there were two symbols on his left shoulder, though I had no idea what they meant. He must have sensed my confusion. “See this?” He pointed to a symbol that depicted a yellow line. Like a long rectangle. “This means he was a Lieutenant.”  
“Was?”  
“Well he ain’t no more is ‘e?” No I guess he wasn’t anymore. There was something else on his shoulder. I pointed to the strange symbol. “What’s that?” He seemed to notice it for the first time.  
“Under the rank symbol is usually the unit insignia.” I stared at the insignia again. It looked like a badge, divided into four sections. The top left section contained a sun, the bottom right had a star, and in the middle of it, where the four sections met, was a lightning bolt. Below it were the numbers ‘501st Bn’ curved around the badge, and around the top was another symbol. It was in the shape of a double helix, cut in half. It was also on its side, so it almost covered the whole badge. “So what unit is that?”  
He looked at it thoughtfully. “Well, it looks like a modified 75th Ranger Regiment insignia. But those numbers… Where have I seen them before?” He thought harder, then his eyes widened, as if something had hit him. Maybe it was the realisation. “Shit! Grab that rifle, we need to head back!” I grabbed the rifle, but made no attempt to move. “Why? What is it?” He pushed me to my feet.  
“No time to explain. We gotta get to the rest of the guys.” And with that, he rushed on in the direction we’d come.  
We came up on the car, moments later. The first thing we heard was barking, which, given the circumstances was a relief. It meant more people had been found. Right?  
Then I heard Jack. “Get back! Get back!” He sounded panicked. I could see them on the other side of the car. They were huddling together, looking at someplace off in the distance, shouting. I looked at Dante. He had the rifle in hand and was taking aim. I looked in the direction he looked and I saw them. Two men wearing that same uniform as the other two. They must’ve been Sierra two. Dante fired. Hitting one of the soldiers square in the chest. He collapsed, dead. The other man reacted, there was no way Dante could take him in time.   
Now it was my turn to take aim.   
And.   
Fire.  
The bullet hit, he fell to the floor. Now that the threat was dealt with, we went to check on the rest of the guys. “You guys OK?” I asked.  
“I’m fine” Replied Jack, shakily. That’s what they all were. Physically fine, but a bit shaken. I saw Riley, huddled over Fletcher. He, I assumed was the shakiest. He stood up and leaned on the car. “Just a bit winded.” He gasped. It was clear that the group was okay, so I told them to wait there, while Dante and I, went to check on the men.   
The soldiers couldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know, as they wore roughly the same uniform as the other two, and the dead aren’t very… talkative. So the only thing we could do was take their gear and head back. I pointed to one of their unit insignia. “There it is again. What’s it mean?”  
Dante looked grimly in the distance. “Bad news is what it is. He pointed to the strange symbol above the badge. “See that half helix? That mark translates to ‘God Sending Great Ability’. In this case, it’s fighting ability and there’s only one outfit that was awarded that.”   
"That literally explains nothing." I trailed behind him.  
"They're 501st."  
"%01st?" I slowly connected the dots. "Rangers... 501st? Wait, THE 501st? As in the 501st Ranger Battalion?"   
He nodded grimly. “What do we do?”  
I was at a loss. Why'd he ask me? Why wasn't he taking the lead? He was the one with military experience after all. He kept staring at me, waiting for an answer. I finally managed to sputter out, “Uh, first things first, tell the guys what we’re up against.”   
As soon as we got back, the first thing Fletcher did was start poppin’ pills. And that’s where my suspicions started. He said they were pain killers, but why would he need them, if he never got injured?  
Anyway, we broke the news to the guys, then we got to thinkin’ what to do next. Jack had a pretty good idea, he proposed that, since we now had four rifles between the six of us, four could practice with them, while the other two scoured for supplies. As Rachel and Dante were the only ones with real firearm experience, they stayed back. Fletcher took one look at those guns and volunteered to look for supplies, Riley went with him.  
That left me and Jack, with Rachel and Dante, and some dog, who until that point had been completely quiet. Damn near shot that thing, from the fright. It was weird though, it only seemed to growl at me and Dante. “Don’t mind her.” Said Jack, defensively.  
“She’s Fletcher’s” Rachel put in.  
I shouted over to the figures of Riley and Fletcher, who were disappearing in the distance. “And take the dog with you!” Fletcher turned briefly and whistled. The dog shot towards him, pretty soon it was just the four of us.  
Dante took straight to the instructing. He talked me and Jack through the basics, showed us how to hold one, and take aim and all that stuff.  
He felt the underside of his rifle, and pulled loose a small rectangular container. “This is called a magazine, it holds all your guns ammo. If it stops shooting, it probably means you’re out.” Behind him, Rachel was placing some small rocks on a low wall, maybe 10 meters away. Dante continued, “To reload, simply pull out your spent mag,” He shook the container about, so we could see it clearly. “And put a fresh one in.” He put the same container back into the gun, it made a clicking sound. “That click means you did it right.”  
Jack leaned over to me. “You know, I thought we’d get to shoot stuff, instead of talking about shooting stuff.”  
I turned to Dante. "You sure it's a good idea to fire these? I mean what if there's other squads out there?"  
"I wouldn't worry too much." He replied dismissively, "The radio only mentioned two groups, and it's unlikely they'd send more out here." The he turned to Jack. "And you can't start using it till you know how to do it proper."  
“Well Dante, I believe in learning by doing.” He slotted the magazine into the gun, took aim at the wall and fired before Dante could stop him. Luckily though, he must have messed something up, cos all the gun would do was the clicking noise Dante mentioned. He continued pulling the trigger, oblivious to the fact that it wasn’t doing anything. Dante snatched the gun from him, and Jack held out his hands. “Hey, give it back!”  
“How can you shoot, when you can’t even reload properly?” Jack looked at him, completely confused. “I thought you said the clicking meant I was doing it right.”  
“Yes, but-“  
“Man, you suck as a teacher.” He took the gun from Dante, who was speechless for Jack stupidity. “I’m gonna ask Rachel how it’s done.” Having completed her task of placing targets on the wall, she stood behind us, readying her gun. She was so busy with that thing she didn’t even notice Jack ‘till he was right in front of her.   
She stepped back, startled. “Oh hey Jack. You need something?” He held out his rifle. “I loaded it like Dante said, but it still won’t shoot.”  
She took it from him, and studied it closely in her hands. She replaced the mag in the rifle and attempted to shoot. Still nothing, just that clicking. “Oh, I see.” She said finally. She pulled a lever on the side of Jack's gun. "The bullet wasn't chambered." She replied simply.  
Jack turned to face Dante smugly. "Well I coulda told you that!" He said in response.  
"Why didn't you?" Asked Rachel.  
"he wouldn't let me!"  
“Right.” She turned to Jack. “see Jack, most rifles need the first bullet to be engaged before they can be fired. You do this manually.” Jack stared at her with a blank expression. She tried again. “Basically, pull this lever after each time you reload.” She pointed to a small metal lever, sticking out of the side of the gun and pulled it backwards, making another clicking noise. She handed Jack the gun. “Now try.” He took it gingerly and took aim at the wall.   
Jack fired, the recoil sent him falling flat on his back. He sat up dazed, I moved to help him, the others would have too, but they were unable to control their laughter. “What happened?” He asked, swaying a little. Dante answered between breaths. “The recoil, mate. Gets all of us on the first go.”  
“And it’s funny every time!” Laughed Rachel. Looking back, it was pretty funny. But I didn’t fancy going up next, not if it meant looking like a fool.   
Jack stood up, still swaying, he said. “Well one things for certain: Rachel teaches better than Dante.”   
Dante stopped laughing. “What d‘you mean? I’m just as good as she is. If not better.” He boasted.  
“Prove it then.” She challenged, still laughing. “I’ll teach Jack, and you teach Tank.”  
Dante took the challenge. “Fine, we’ll run a test. A shooting test.”  
“No shit.” I said.   
“Five bullets, whoever shots the most rocks off the wall wins.” He continued. With that, they tried to teach us how to aim. Separately. Honestly, not the best idea, we were mostly just standing there, watching, after which, neither me or Jack managed to hit anything. In the end, we just let those two duke it out. I sat back and watched the show, while Jack walked around, relatively close to the car. I gotta admit, I was pretty nervous that another group of soldiers would come, with all the racket we were making. But the radio did say there were only two teams in the town. After a while, Dante and Rachel began arguing, probably about who won, honestly, I couldn’t care less, but I moved closer, listening to their conversation.   
From behind me, Jack called out triumphantly. “Hey guys! Look what I found!” We all turned, simultaneously, knowing Jack, it was probably something bad. I was right. He stood right behind me, holding a small spherical object. “It’s a grenade!”  
I panicked. “Aw shit dude, don’t bring that here!” I backed away.  
“Where’d you find it?” Asked Dante.  
“It was on one of those soldiers.”  
“Did you pull the pin?”  
Jack pointed to a small pin, sticking out of the top of the grenade. “What this? Uh...” He pulled it out and gave it Dante. “Here." At this point we’re all panicking, except for Jack. He didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on.  
“Well don’t hold on to it, throw it!” Shouted Rachel. He swung his arm and tossed the grenade with what had to be the world’s weakest throw. It landed right in the middle of us. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the explosion. I heard a sound like a small pop, and then felt weightless. Then I heard the sound of laughing, and shouting.   
Confused by all the commotion, I opened my eyes to the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. Everyone was still there, and unexploded, but we were all floating, just above the ground, along with some small rocks, and other debris.  
Jack laughed uproariously. “Hah! You should have seen the looks on your faces!” He glided smoothly across the air. “You were all like ‘We’re gonna die!’ Oh it’s too much!”  
Dante was floating next to me. He was furious, however, he was also upside down, which made it look like he was smiling. “We’ll see how funny it is when I shove that grenade up your ass!” Dante was rightfully pissed. He floated around, trying to catch Jack. No easy feat when in zero-gravity. I turned to Rachel, she was smiling slightly. Maybe she thought Jack’s ‘joke’ was funny, or maybe she was just glad to be alive.  
“What’s going on?” I asked.  
“That grenade Jack set off. It wasn’t a fragmentation grenade.”  
“Then what?”  
“A gravity manipulation grenade”  
“A Grav-nade!” Corrected Jack. Still floating away from Dante, who was still attempting to catch him. I’d heard about these. The idea was that you threw one next to some cover, and the grenade would take away all the gravity in that area, lifting the enemy over for an easy shot.  
“How long we gonna be up here?” I asked.  
“Don’t worry, effects are temporary and usually only last around a minute.” Answered Rachel. “Oh look, their back.” She pointed excitedly towards two figures. Fletcher and Riley. They’d got a lot more done on their end, I feel.  
“What’s all this then?” Asked Fletcher.   
“Gee, you guys, we’re only gone half an hour, and you decide to get high as fuck.” He tried his best to sound hurt. “Wait for us next time, would you chaps?”  
The effects of the grenade were starting to go away as we slowly descended back to the ground. “Next time man, next time.” Chuckled Jack. Dante had finally decided to give up his pursuit.  
“So what happened here anyway?” Asked Fletcher.  
And that’s why we were flying when Fletcher and Riley found us.  
Anyway, moving on from that.  
Rachel went over to Fletcher and the dog, probably recounting what had happened since they’d left. Jack was still running from Dante, a huge grin fixed on his face. Dante was mad as hell, he don’t take too kindly to practical jokes, and especially those pulled on him. I guess I should’ve tried calming him down, but I figured maybe I should let the bastard get a taste of his own medicine.   
So instead, I went over to Riley, to check on the supplies. He was at the rear-end of the car, piling the stuff into the trunk. He’d taken the camping equipment out. Not much use for tents in the city.  
He did keep some of the warmer clothes though, I trust you know how cold London gets in the winter? Even if the bloody sun’s out.  
“How we looking on supplies?” I leaned on the side of the car, watching him pile the stuff in the trunk.  
He answered without looking up, fully consumed in his task. “Lots of these houses were stocked for the week, should have enough food ta last us a month, maybe two.” I nodded in agreement. It did look like a, lot at the time. He looked up at me. “You gonna help, or just keep staring?” He returned his attention to the supplies. Slowly, I got to work. I walked around the other side of the car and positioned myself facing the trunk, keeping the wheelbarrow between us, so we both had access to the supplies. I looked down into the wheelbarrow, our supplies were made up of mostly canned food; tuna, soups and the like. I picked up a few cans and was immediately confused. I held it up in front of Riley and shook it vigorously to get his attention. “Dog food? Why are we packing dog food? We’re not that desperate.”  
“Yet.” He corrected and snatched the can from my hands. “’Sides it’s not for us, it’s for Sam.” He looked over towards the dog. She was sitting obediently behind Fletcher. “Reminds me, we should probably leave a few of these out, poor girl hasn’t eaten in days.” He replaced the cans into the wheelbarrow. “Nearly went crazy when we found these.” He chuckled drily.  
“Wait, you mean that mutt’s coming with us?” I wasn’t particularly fond of that dog at the time, after all, she was constantly barking at me and Dante. So I wasn’t exactly jumping at the thought of taking her with us, she’d just be a drain on our resources, a nuisance. At least that’s what I thought.  
“She’s no mutt, she’s a full Shepherd.” He said proudly in her defence. “There’s a lot of things dogs like that can do you know.”  
I wasn’t fully convinced. “Like what?”  
“Lots of things! Guard duty, scouting, whatever you can think of. Just tell her to do it and she will.”  
On the other side of the street, Dante had finally managed to catch Jack, and began pelting him with his fists. I decided to go over to them before it got out of hand. “’Scuse us a sec while I deal with those two.” I put the supplies I still carried back in the wheelbarrow.  
Riley grabbed me by the arm. “So about Sam?”  
“I’ll think about it.”  
“It’s just that, she belongs to someone that means a great deal to Fletcher.” He was probably referring to the girl in Fletcher’s locket, Elizabeth. “Don’t make him leave her behind.” It was more of a command, than a request.   
“Alright, alright she can stay.” He didn’t really give me much of a choice, but at the end of the day, I’m glad he talked me into bringing her. Not that it mattered whether or not I agreed to let her come along, something tells me Fletcher wouldn’t a left her behind. Riley smiled and got back to work, arranging the supplies.   
“Oh and uh, you mind if me and Fletch go back ‘an pay our respects?” He asked.  
“What back in the house?” He nodded. “Gee Rye, you’re a grown ass man, don’t need to be askin’ for my permission.” He nodded again. “Just... are you sure you want Fletcher back in there? Poor kid seemed pretty shook up.”  
Again, he nodded. “Yea I’m sure, there’s probably some things inside he wants to pick up too.”  
“Important things?”  
“Sentimentally, yea. Not to mention the medical supplies.”  
“Alright, just as long as it doesn’t take up too much space.”  
“Agreed”   
After that had been dealt with, I got up and began walking over to the two figures still fighting in the background. I thought I’d pass through Rachel and Fletcher on the way, see how they were holding up. “How you two feeling?” I asked.   
“A bit shaken from that stunt.” Replied Rachel. I knew exactly what she meant.   
“Gotta admit, it was pretty funny though.” I chuckled.   
She smiled thinly. “Yea, after you get over that initial thought of ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die!’” Fletcher and I laughed.  
“Yea that’s Jack for ya! All fun and games until someone gets hurt.” I looked over at him, still squabbling with Dante, but it looked like they were starting to calm down a bit. “Thinking of it, he’s all fun and games even after people get hurt.”  
“What’s that like?”  
“Annoying. Most times anyway.” I turned to Fletcher. “How ‘bout you? How you feeling?”   
“Fine I guess.” Answered Fletcher, though it was obvious he was just trying to put on a brave face. I tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. That’s when the dog barked at me.   
It was so sudden, I flinched and stepped back in alarm. She stood there beside Fletcher, ears flattened on her head, teeth bared and tense. She stood perfectly still, staring at me and growling slightly waiting for the opportune moment to strike. She probably would have, had Fletcher not intervened. “Hey! Hey! Sammy, stop! Stop.” He put an arm around her neck and hugged her reassuringly. With his free hand, he began stroking her flank gently. “It’s okay.” He whispered. “He’s not gonna hurt anyone, he’s a friend.” He continued stroking her gently. She slowly stopped growling, but she kept her eyes trained on me. A warning to keep my distance. “Sorry about that Sherman.” Began Fletcher “She’s nervous about the gun. And new faces and all that.”  
I held up a hand, signaling that I understood. Even so, I was reconsidering whether or not to bring her. “It’s ok Fletch, I get it. She just wants to keep you safe.” I smiled. She growled in agreement. “Ok, well I’d better go deal with David and Goliath over there.” I pointed towards the two figures in the distance. “You guys pack what you can and get ready leave.” They nodded in agreement. I walked past them towards Jack and Dante, then I remember. “Oh and Fletcher, don’t forget to feed her!”  
“Yea I know. We found her some food.” He called back. She barked at him happily.  
I rushed over to Dante and Jack, who were standing by the two deceased soldiers. Dante held Jack in a tight headlock, while Jack was struggling to break free.   
“C’mon man let me go!” He pleaded.  
“Not until you at least apologise!” Dante roared back. Jack continued trying to pry himself free.  
“Apologise for what? My comedic genius?”  
“For that stunt you pulled back there!”  
Jack paused his struggles for a second. "Yea... my comedic genius."  
I had to agree with Dante. Though it was, a little, funny afterwards, I didn’t appreciate the joke either.  
“Man, that was completely uncalled for. Someone could have got hurt.” He looked at me, straight in the eyes. He was thinking, probably feeling sorry. He stopped struggling and made as if to say something. Dante loosened his grip a little, to let him talk more easily. Taking this advantage Jack broke free from Dante and dashed past me, making his way toward the car.   
He called back. “I’m sorry you two can’t take a joke!” He laughed wildly.   
Dante looked at me quizzically. “What the hell's wrong with that guy?”   
I shrugged my shoulders. "Genuinely no idea." I’d never seen Jack act that way before. “Maybe it’s his way of coping with what’s going on.” I suggested, but his guess was as good as mine.  
Dante clenched his fists. “Well whatever it is, I’m gonna beat it outta him!” He sped towards the car. Dante doesn’t take too kindly to being pranked, but Jack didn’t know that. Not yet anyway.  
I sighed and started making my way back to the car, then I heard static. I looked around, trying to locate where it’d come from, but I found no source. Maybe I was hearing things.   
Then there it was again. The sound came from below, like it was on the ground, but the only things on the ground were the two men and they were in no shape to make noises. Either way, I approached them. Dante and I had already missed the grenade, maybe there was something else we’d overlooked. I crouched down next to one of them, he’d fallen face first. The sound became louder. I flipped him on his back and recoiled in shock.   
He was still alive! If just barely.  
He stared at me for a moment, with his dull eyes. “Should… never had followed… Ross” He coughed weakly. “He made us…” The static came back. He looked down on his uniform, where the noise had come, there was a small radio clipped onto his vest. It appeared to be in better shape than the other groups. Shakily, he unclipped it, and handed it over to me. I took it, confused. “Get help…use the…r-radio. You have… to…stop t-them before it’s…too…to-“  
The effort was clearly too much for him. “Shh. Save your strength. We have a… Doctor, maybe he can help!” I turned back towards the car, but was stopped by his hand gently holding my harm.  
“Don’t trust… him.”   
Now I was completely confused. I pressed on for details. “Don’t trust who?”  
He seemed to be staring off into the distance. “Things they made us do…I’m so sorry.”  
That was all he could manage to whisper. He lay there, wide eyed and stiff. I gently closed his eyes. I stood there for a moment, staring at the man, wondering just what he was on about. I glanced at his uniform one last time. His name was Alistair Cready. Another Lieutenant. I also spotted something attached to his belt; a small circular object. It was covered in blue markings, and some green text going around its middle that read ‘M83B GM Grenade.’ It was another Gravity Manipulation grenade. Next to it on his belt was another circular object almost identical to the first. This however, was coloured green, the text going around it was yellow and it read ‘G13 Fragmentation’ these were the ones that blew up. I pocketed both objects and started making my way back to the car. Suddenly, static erupted from my left hand. It was the radio I still held, the sole reason I’d stopped by Alistair Cready and I completely forgot about it, but now it had my undivided attention.  
The voice came through strong and audible, the same voice that was on the other group’s radio. “Sierra-two report in. I repeat, report in.” The voice sounded clearly annoyed at being ignored. “Sierra-one still hasn’t reported in, do you have eyes on, over?” The voice then seemed to turn to someone else. “Search and Destroy teams not responding sir. What’s your call?” There was a short pause, then a lower voice responded. “Where were they stationed?”  
“Woodford, sir.”  
“Anyone else stationed there at the moment.”  
“No sir” Answered the other voice confused.  
“Send in an air strike. If our guys got taken down, that should rid of any straglers.”  
That was all I needed to hear. I ran to the car, luckily Riley had already managed to pack everything in. I shouted “Everyone in the car! They’re sending in a missile strike!” It was a bit blunt, I’ll admit, but it was also very effective. Everyone had already rushed into the now, cramped with supplies, car before I’d even got the keys in. I had turned around, making sure. “Everyone in?”  
I was responded by a chorus of panicked ‘Yeses’ and some ‘Go’s!’ I jammed the keys in the ignition and was about to hammer on the gas, when I noticed through the rear view mirror that the trunk was still open. I turned around to make sure, and the mirror was not lying. “Where’s Fletcher?” I asked.  
“Shit! He’s still in the house!” Responded Riley. We then all began shouting out his name, frantically. Seconds later, he emerged from the house with Sam. He was carrying a large leather bag, budging with content. He threw it in the back, as the dog up into the back of the car. As Fletcher got in, I closed the boot automatically. As soon as I heard the door close, I slammed on the gas, the sudden burst of movement forced everybody back on their seats. All except for Fletcher and Sam, who were smacked to the floor of the trunk. Slowly, he got up rubbing the back of his head. “Ow, Sherman! Why are we going so fast?”  
Rachel responded for me, as I was too busy with the driving. “Didn’t you hear?”  
“Obviously not.”  
“There’s a missile coming!” Roared Jack a mix of fear and excitement. Fletcher seemed finally aware of the gravity of the situation.  
“A what!?” He demanded, desperately hoping for it to be one of Jack’s twisted jokes. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”  
Jack obliged. “I’m kidding. Not!” He erupted with laughter. “Yea we’re all gonna die.” He said with a serious expression on his face.  
“How much time do we have?” Asked Dante. As if on cue, a deafening noise erupted in the clouds above us, as an aircraft flew overhead. It didn't seem to have dropped its payload yet, but it was slowly manoeuvring back around.  
“That about answer your questions?”  
“We’ll never get out of town in time!” Stated Riley.  
Clearly, he underestimated my driving, all it took was a little calculating.  
“Right let me think! There’s three routes out of Woodford. The quickest way is through the N circular road isn’t it?”  
“Yea, that also takes us straight to London!”  
“Great, and as there’s no traffic, we’d get to London in about… what 30-40 minutes?”  
“Which means we’d be out of Woodford in 10, we won’t make it!” Shouted Riley. He clearly thought we were doomed, aw hell, they all thought we were, but I wasn’t so sure. I gripped the stick shift and rammed it into the fastest setting, which for a car like mine was about 65. It would give us ample time to get out of town. About a minute later we got to the first toll booth.  
I drove through, breaking the barrier in two.  
“Well gee Tank, if you needed change, you could have asked you know.” Jack then began fishing through his wallet.  
Fletcher questioned him. “We don’t have time to pay! Have you forgotten about the missile?”  
“That’s no excuse to go around breaking toll booths.” He retorted. “Besides, I’m sure it’s still way out!” He looked through the back window, there stood the town, still in view, but quickly becoming smaller and smaller. “See! What I tell ya, town’s still-" he was cut off by the side of a huge explosion. Everyone looked back to get a glimpse of what’d happened, me included. The only thing visible was a huge ball of light and dust, hovering over what used to be the town.  
I saw Riley close one eye and then put a thumbs up in front of his other eye. “Riley, what are you doing?”  
“Checking we’re safe” He replied.  
“Are we?” Asked Dante.   
Riley lowered his hand, revealing his face which was full of terror. “Step on it Tank!” I looked back to see what the problem was. See, we’d missed the explosion, but we weren’t far enough to avoid the shock-wave. I could see the clouds of dust rising behind us, as the wave was catching up. It would be on us in a matter of seconds. There was no way we could outrun it. “Grab onto something!” That was all we could really do to avoid a fraction of the damage. I looked back just as it hit us, Riley and Rachel, being on the two side seats were both clutching onto the car handles, while Jack held onto Rachel. In the trunk, Fletcher had braced himself behind the seats, holding both Sam and one of the head rests. In the front, Dante was holding on to his side of the car, while all I could hold onto was the steering wheel.  
Then we were hit. I felt that same feeling of weightlessness as before, only this time, I knew what caused it. The car flipped over several times and we each took a few hits from that. I think Jack had it worse than us, as he wasn’t actually holding on to anything. When we eventually stopped, the car had gone a little way off road, and it was flipped upside-down.


End file.
